You Were Mine All Along
by ThexInvisiblexGirl
Summary: AU/AH Things between Edward and Bella can't get more perfect. But what happens when Bella gets the chance of a lifetime, and must choose between her love and her career? A sequel to my fic If You Were Mine, please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This fic is a sequel to my first AH/AU fic titled **_**If You were Mine**_**. They make more sense in sequence, naturally, so make sure you read the first one before starting on this one. Like the first story, this one has alternating POVs as well. I'm having a great time writing this monster, so I hope you guys enjoy it.**

**Huge thank you for Mizra and BlondeBubble who helped me **_**so**_** much to get this story together, and were extremely patient with me as I kept bugging them with questions (and still do!). Among other things, Mizra made the story's banner, and BlondeBubble has been my personal advisor for all-things-London. I love you guys, this story was nothing if it wasn't for you. **

**Enough said. Let's get this show on the road! Happy reading, everyone! Please drop me a review if you like it =)**

**Disclaimer: the **_**Twilight**_** characters are the eternal property of Stephenie Meyer. I mean them no harm – I'm only playing. The title is a line from Band of Skulls' song Friends, on the **_**New Moon**_** soundtrack. **

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You Were Mine All Along

**Chapter One – Bella **

"Is this a joke?" I asked the faceless voice on the other end. I held the phone so tight it hurt my fingers. With my other hand, I began to rub my temple very slowly, hoping the motion would shake me out of the numbness my mind was rapidly sinking into. I listened to the sound of my own breathing speeding up as I anxiously awaited his reply. A part of me didn't have to wait for the answer to know it wasn't a joke. Another part _needed_ it to be a mistake. It couldn't be happening. Not to me, not now, not _ever_.

"You _are_ Isabella Swan, aren't you?"

"Yes, but – "

"And you _have_ auditioned for the English National Ballet in front of Miss Philippa Logan three weeks ago in New York, haven't you?"

"Yes, but – "

"Then you might want to start making the necessary arrangements, Miss Swan."

Oh, _crap_.

It was the weirdest feeling, being completely thrilled and yet completely flabbergasted at the same time. My palms were sweaty when I finally put the phone down. I could almost hear my heart hammering in my chest. My breathing still wasn't right. I was already sitting down, which was fortunate because all of a sudden I felt really dizzy. The conversation still echoed in my head, and its meaning was sinking in faster than I could take. I wasn't sure if I should throw up or dance for joy.

Never in my wildest dreams had I expected to get in. I'd only gone to that audition as a gesture for Madame La Pierre who got it for me. I'd tried not to let it show, but I'd been skeptic when she had first told me. The English National Ballet? Please. Like I'd _eve_r had a chance. I hadn't truly considered the pros and cons since I'd never expected to actually pass that audition. I finally found my place in this city I loved. I was about to graduate in a few weeks. Moving away anywhere, especially to Europe, seemed so far-fetched now.

It all started about two months ago, when Madame La Pierre asked me to meet her in her office after class. I thought she wanted to discuss the upcoming spring project, because it was that time of year when no one had spoken about anything else, but it turned out she had other things in mind.

"So, you'll be graduating soon," she said after very little small talk. This was how she'd been like: always practical, businesslike and straight to the point. "Any thoughts of the future?"

"Umm, not really," I replied. Three months before graduation, I was just trying to keep my focus on school issues, especially the spring project that was scarcely a month away. A deadline followed a deadline, and there were days I thought the pressure would bury me under. But I couldn't have that. I wouldn't. I had no intention of messing up my last months in Juilliard.

"Have you ever heard about the English National Ballet?"

The random question confused me, but I replied anyway. "A little. I think we had a guest lecturer from there last year."

"Quite possibly," she nodded. "One of the managers, Philippa Logan, is a close friend of mine. We were roommates here a long time ago. She was one of the international students, and she went back to England right after we graduated. The English National Ballet rarely accepts non-English dancers, but ever since Philippa became involved in management… let's just say Juilliard has a warm place in her heart. Every year she asks me to list a few of my outstanding students. She holds a private and rather secretive audition session here. One or two people are eventually accepted." This was where she stopped and pinned me with a significant stare. "She's coming to New York next month." Before I could grasp the meaning of this statement or how it had to do with me, she smiled at me. "I've given her your name."

"W-what?" I stammered, the blood draining from my face.

I was sure astonishment was written all over my expression, but she calmly dismissed it. "A career path to consider. They have excellent reputation, as you probably know. It can be a wonderful starting point for you."

"But I don't… I can't…"

"Bella," she said; her eyes hadn't released mine yet. "I have good eye perception. And I've been following you since your first day here. If anyone can do well on those auditions, _you_ can."

"But I haven't even considered – "

"It will be June before you know it. Maybe it's time to start considering," she actually winked at me, but her amusement was brief. Soon she was all-business again. "I'll be happy to prep you for the audition. I think your usual routine will do just fine, but we can add on some improvements to it and it would be…"

She went on and on, but I was hardly listening. The room swirled around me, and I kept blinking just to make sure I was still awake. She'd just said she got me an audition… for the English National Ballet? It was at some point during my second year here when I realized that being a ballerina and keeping it as a steady profession was going to be harder than I thought. Sure, anyone could find a place in some ballet troupe someplace, but to get into the _really_ good ones, ones that were famous worldwide, was nearly impossible to do. So I didn't give it up entirely, but I'd come to terms with the improbability of it. And I was okay with it. It didn't leave me scarred or traumatized. I loved living in New York. There was too much to give up if I left, so staying was the best option.

And there she was, giving me exactly what I'd always wanted before I made my home here.

Leaving everything behind to pursue a dance career seemed so… romantic, impulsive, everything I was not. I'd built myself a life here, away from my mom and dad and everything I'd ever known before. I didn't have to be anyone's caretaker and I liked it. I _loved_ it. I didn't have to make sure Renée paid her bills on time. I didn't have to worry about getting Charlie's dinner. It sounded selfish, but I could finally be myself here. Sure, I could be independent in Europe too, but it wouldn't be the same. There was too much to leave behind here, too much to give up on. My apartment and this city, my friends…

_Him_.

I cringed. The thought alone was unbearable.

Edward and I celebrated our fourth anniversary this Christmas. Things were, as cliché as it sounded, perfect. We were still living together, but we had our own place now. We shared a dingy apartment with Alice (who was still my closest friend) and Jasper (who was no longer working in Starbucks) at first, after Emmett and Rosalie were back in town, and although it was crowded as hell, it was great fun too.

Then, about two years ago, Edward's grandfather passed away. It was rather sudden and quite traumatizing for Emmett and Edward. Just when they started getting along with him again, they lost him. Up until then, I'd known mourning only from a distance. I was very young when my only grandmother died, and when I saw what the death of their grandfather had done to them, I knew I should consider myself lucky. It was better to lose them as kids and let the memories fade, than experience what I had with Edward in those months after his grandfather died. It happened right before his graduation, and he was so out of it that I feared they wouldn't let him graduate. Luckily, he was on top of his class for four years in a row, and the school committee was extremely considerate. They were flexible on a few deadlines only to allow him to graduate on time.

It came as surprise to no one when, while reading his grandfather's will, it turned out he divided his property between Carlisle, Emmett and Edward. It was a final gesture of goodwill of sorts. Edward, with his dad's advice, decided to use the money to get an apartment in New York. It was three times bigger than our matchbox of an apartment, one I could never afford on my own, but Edward said it was fair enough he'd pay for it considering I'd done most of the housework anyway (he tried, but he was just too horrible in it all).

We moved in last September, when I started my last year in Juilliard and Edward started his Masters. It was something he used to speak to his grandfather about, but after he died I thought it would be too tough a blow for him. Eventually he decided to go for it. He also found a part time job, playing in a ballet studio just off Times Square. Despite the long hours he spent away, he seemed to be enjoying it. And it kept his mind off things, so I wasn't complaining. He was finally happy again.

Things couldn't get better for us. We had an apartment we loved. Edward had his studies and his job, and I had my last year of school to worry about. Emmett and Rosalie lived a short distance away; so did Alice and Jasper. The six of us were really close, and we spent quite a lot of time together, despite everyone's busy schedules. I was having the time of my life. I didn't know if I was able to just give it all up and start from scratch in a new place.

Not that I'd have to, of course. There was no way I'd ever get in.

Showed how little I'd known, really.

Only when I hung up, I realized the vast amount of the trouble I was in. I hadn't told Edward about the audition at the time. I didn't see the need to. Since I had never thought I was going to get in, I wasn't overly stressed about getting things right like I'd normally do before tryouts. And Edward had always been twice as stressed when I had auditions, so there was really no point to bother him over nothing. But now… it changed everything. Our whole lives were here. We worked our asses off to get to where we were today. Did I really want to give it all up?

Would _he_ want to give it all up, if I asked him to?

And did I even have the right to ask?

Those questions still bugged me when I left our apartment an hour or so later on my way to class. I still had plenty of time, but I couldn't stay in. I was too giddy, too wired to sit still. I could feel the adrenaline pumping in my veins, and I was almost sorry I didn't have my modern dance lesson this afternoon. I needed to vent all this energy someplace, and ballet wasn't quite the place for it. A part of me wanted to scream, or skip along the sidewalk, or do anything to let it out even though I wasn't sure what I felt. I was so happy, but at the same time scared out of my wits. More than anything, I wanted to tell someone, just to get it off my chest. Naturally, Edward would have been the first I'd tell, but he was working this afternoon and I had that class to get to. Besides, I still needed to figure out _how_ to break this to him.

As soon as I crossed the street towards the school building, I knew who I wanted to speak to.

There was a payphone right in front of the building, and I had about forty minutes to kill. I stepped into the booth, fished for change in the front pocket of my bag, stuck it in the phone and dialed. I stared at the passersby while waiting for my mom to pick up.

"Dwyer residence."

It used to throw me off a little at first, whenever Phil had answered the phone. At some point my mind sort of processed the fact he was there to stay. Four years into their marriage, Renée couldn't be happier. Although I hadn't seen her as often as I hoped, we spoke on the phone a lot, and I knew she was well. "Hey Phil, it's Bella."

"Oh, hey Bells." It had always made me cringe when he used Charlie's nickname. "How are you? How's school?"

"It's busy." It summed everything up perfectly. "How's work?"

"Oh, it's wonderful. Those kids are amazing. Here's your mom."

"Thanks, Phil."

"Hi, baby!" Renée's voice came through, youthful and zealous as ever, like sunshine through my gloom. "What a surprise! How come you're not in school?"

"I'm on my way. I have a late class today."

"I can't believe you're graduating soon, where did time go? It makes me feel so _old_!"

"Yeah, it's soon, isn't it?" I asked distractedly. I barely thought of graduation with those new developments. June didn't seem so intimidating anymore in comparison.

"_Very_ soon! We're really looking forward for this trip, and seeing you two. I haven't been in New York City since that first audition of yours, and Phil is all excited to catch the Knicks or whoever the hell will be playing that weekend," she laughed.

"I'll see if Emmett can get him cheaper tickets," I promised. "Listen, Mom, I… kind of need to talk."

Enthusiasm shifted into concern in a flash of a second. "Talk? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. Well, not exactly. Something… happened." Yes, that worked.

"Are you and Edward having issues?"

"No, of course not." Except for that one huge blowout when we had only started seeing each other, I couldn't remember one serious argument we had. Disputes seemed like such a waste of time.

"You're not… pregnant, are you, Bella?"

"_What_? No!" I shuddered at the very thought of it.

"Is it Edward again? I thought he was getting better these days."

"Edward has nothing to do with this, Mom, it's _just me_!"

The edge in my voice caught me off-guard. The outburst left me at a momentary loss. For so long, it had always been _us_, I suddenly realized; to such an extent, that _me_ had been pushed into a dark, lonely corner. When did this happen? When had Edward and I become this package deal that buried me, just Bella, underneath it? And where was I to allow this to happen?

And this was when I realized. Here lay my chance to do just that, to stop _me_ from sitting in the wings. This was my chance to do something for myself. It came to warn me right before it would be too late. While I clearly had to tell Edward, it didn't entail I had to ask him to join me. This was my choice, my career. He didn't have to follow me.

"Something came up," I told my mom. "I got this offer… I auditioned for the English National Ballet." I took another deep breath. "I got in."

"_What_?" I had to hold the phone away. "Bella… honey, that's _incredible_! Do you realize what it means?"

"Umm, no, not really," I laughed nervously. "I'm kind of in denial. I haven't expected it…"

But she hardly listened now. "_Europe_! It's just what you – oh, baby, I'm so proud of you! God, I'm going to start crying…" Her voice trembled, and I could hear Phil teasing her in the background. Her excited babbles became almost unintelligible as she repeated what I'd just told her. Then when she was back, she sounded slightly more recovered. "This is wonderful news, sweetheart. We're both very proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom."

"I bet Edward is all excited," she giggled.

"I… haven't told him yet, actually," I said slowly, suddenly feeling extremely guilty for keeping it from him.

"How come?" There was surprise in her voice.

"He doesn't know I auditioned. It wasn't a big deal, and I didn't actually think I had a chance…"

She seemed to catch on my distress, as if she realized the consequences of such a decision. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure." Helplessness was strange and unfamiliar. When it came to our relationship, I'd been nothing but confident for the last four years, until today.

"Are you actually, seriously considering it? Moving away?"

"It's… tempting," I replied, choosing my words carefully.

"Because if you want to do this, he has to know, Bella. You have to tell him."

"I know," I almost moaned. "I'm going to tell him tonight."

"Have you told your dad? He'll go nuts," she said, laughing softly.

"I haven't told anyone yet. I only found out an hour ago. Please let me handle Dad, okay? I think I should be the one who tells him if…" I let my voice trail with indecision.

"He'll be so happy for you!" I wished I could be half as confident as she'd been. "It'll be fine," she determined, as if sensing my hesitation. "Charlie will understand. And so will Edward."

I hoped she was right, because the more I thought about the possibilities this offer held, the more I wanted it. I felt so strange. Up until now there was nothing I wanted more than living my life here in New York, and possibly staying here for good. But now when this opportunity came up… My old dreams came rushing back, and it was as if those four years had never happened. I _wanted_ this. I wanted Europe. I wanted to be this prima ballerina I'd always dreamed about.

But at what cost?

I knew I had to tell Edward. Despite my wish to prove myself _me_ was still in there someplace, my final decision didn't concern just me. If I was seriously going to consider this step in my career, he had to be a part of this decision. Throughout my studies, he'd always been so sweet and supportive. He'd been there for me through everything, in my moments of victory and distress. My insecurities and panic attacks had never deterred him. There was no reason why I couldn't trust him on this one. He loved me. He'd understand.

I was slightly more confident when I headed home after class. My final year was surprisingly less busy than the previous ones. Twice a week I actually had the entire day to myself except for this one afternoon class, which was cool. What wasn't so cool was the fact that those were the days Edward left home early in the morning and was back just when I left for my class.

The complex we lived in was a short distance from the place Emmett and Rosalie had lived, but it was miles different. It wasn't a giant, extravagant building. It was four-stories high, like all the buildings in our street. It didn't have a doorman in the lobby. The elevator was so ancient that we rarely used it. It was an old building with a tiny lobby and a wide staircase. Each floor had two apartments, except for the top floor which was ours. Our loft wasn't the huge space of Emmett and Rosalie's place, but big enough, more comfortable, more us.

As I made my way upstairs, I idly wondered if he was home yet. It seemed quite dark inside when I looked up while crossing the street. I wondered if I had enough time to make some decent dinner before he was back. Maybe I should just take him out someplace and break this to him outside. Either way, I still wasn't sure I knew how to do it. All I knew was that I had to do it tonight. I wanted it too badly to hide this from him. I'd done enough stalling already.

I unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open, only to halt a second later. The apartment was dark and dimly lit by what seemed like dozens of small candles that were literally scattered all over the living room. Edward was standing by the window with his back to the door. Tall and lean, his hair looked darker in the soft light. I smiled to myself. Even now, a little over four years into this relationship, my heart still lifted at the first sight of him. Sometimes I still found myself wondering how it was possible I was so lucky to have him, to keep him. Sometimes I'd look at him while he slept, and think there was no way this amazing guy was actually mine.

I must have gasped or made some other sound, because he suddenly turned to face me. Whatever he found in my eyes, it made him laugh. I was still rooted to place when he walked over to where I was standing. My hand was still grasping the doorknob. I didn't realize that it was until he slowly released my grip on it. After shutting the door, he took my hand again and brought it to his lips.

"What the hell is all this?" I asked as he lowered my hand. I caught a glimpse of our small dining table, which was set for two. This was when I realized something smelt really good. Italian, I guessed. I gaped at him. "Did you cook?"

"Oh, hell, no. I didn't want to mess things up," he said, flashing a crooked grin at me. He ran his hand through his tousled hair and smiled at me sheepishly. "There's something important I need to talk to you about."

"So you thought candles and Italian would soften me?" I asked, laughing nervously. I should have thought of it while planning a strategy to break my news to him. Somehow he was outguessing me. I should have been more thorough.

"Something like that, yes," he admitted.

"I've got something important to talk to you about, too."

He tugged at my hand. "Talk first, eat later?" he asked, looking almost scared. He must have seen something in the way I was observing him, because he ran his hand through his hair again. "I kind of want to get it out of my system before I chicken out."

"Edward, what is it?" I asked, but followed him to the sofa. For a brief moment, my own worries were all gone. "You're not breaking up with me, are you?" Despite all this time, the insecurities had never ceased entirely. The doubt had always been there, at the back of my mind, waiting for opportunities such as this one to raise its ugly head.

He laughed darkly. "Hardly. Sit down."

"Okay," I said slowly, scooting to one end of the sofa. "But you're starting to scare me here."

"I'm not breaking up with you," he assured me as he came to sit next to me. We said nothing for a moment, just eyed each other uncertainly. Then he cleared his throat, smiling coyly at me. "Ladies first?"

The coward that I was, I shook my head. "Since you planned such an elaborated production, you should go ahead first."

His eyes widened ever so slightly in what seemed like horror. I smiled encouragingly and pursed my lips, waiting. "Okay. _Please_ wait until I'm absolutely finished though, alright? I've never done this before and… I'm not sure I know how. And I want to do this right."

He looked so flustered. His cheeks flared in the soft candlelight. I could have sworn I saw sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. I didn't know what it all meant, but I thought I should play along to make it easy on him. "Okay, I'm listening."

But even so, he seemed unable to bring himself to speak. He laughed, half with nerves, half with frustration. "I'm scared you'll freak out."

"How bad can it be?" I asked lightly, but now I could feel panic surging through me. _Was_ there a reason to freak out? How could anything he'd say be more terrifying than what I had to tell him? "Just let it out, Edward. It's fine. Whatever it is, I'll handle it," I said with more bravery than I'd actually felt.

"It's just… I remember the first time it came up when we started seeing each other, but it was completely a joke back then. But it's been four years and…" His eyes were searching mine. His gaze was dark, fathomless. "I love you, Bella."

"I love you, too," I echoed, kind of uncertainly. He'd known that. What did this have to do with anything?

"I… I mean, you… you're everything to me. I can't imagine my life without you now. I want to make sure it stays this way, I want to make sure that you… that we…" He stopped, and that same nervous laughter escaped him. "Ugh, I knew I couldn't do this right. Bella," he started again, with slightly more urgency, and took my hand. He locked his gaze in mine, and for a hint of a moment, I had this horrible feeling I knew exactly what he was going to say.

And of course, I was right.

"Will you marry me, Bella?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: hello everyone, welcome back! Here's the next installment – happy reading! Review, please…?**

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Chapter Two – Edward

The question remained unanswered between us. The silence was thick and unnerving. I kept telling myself to calm down. Giving myself a heart attack right now wouldn't be a brilliant move. I tried to focus on my breathing, but I was closer to hyperventilating than anything else. Even my palms were sweating. She said nothing for the longest time, just stared at me jaw-dropped. I kept my gaze locked on hers, telling myself I wouldn't release her until she answered.

After what felt like eternity, she let out a chuckle, high-pitched and shaky. "Edward, I… I don't…" Her eyes were searching mine, and I could see astonishment didn't cease. "Are you serious?"

Unable to speak, I just nodded.

"Oh, my God," she murmured, but she wasn't addressing me. For a moment, I wasn't sure what to do. I knew how she felt about marriage; I'd known it since day one. But for me, it felt like the natural next step. I'd been contemplating this for a while, ever since the time my grandfather had died and she'd always been there for me. Having her in the darkest time of my life gave me all the confirmation I needed – if we could get through that time, we could get through anything. I wanted to be with her always.

It had been weeks before I brewed enough courage to discuss this with anyone. Emmett was the first (and only) person I told. I remembered that day when he had told me about his plan to propose to Rosalie (the only time I'd seen him blush and stumble over his words and look flustered), and I told myself that if she said yes to my idiotic brother, then it shouldn't be so complicated. There was no reason why Bella wouldn't say yes to me.

I met him at his favorite diner. I came here ten minutes earlier, and I'd been on the edge of my seat with panic. Now that I was decided on telling him, I just wanted to get things over with. I kept throwing fretful glances at the entrance, waiting for him to get there. He texted me to let me know he was running a bit late, and added a detailed list of what I should order until he was there. The food arrived just when he rushed in, all apologies, breathlessly explaining he was being kept at the doctor's office with Rosalie.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Nothing to for you to worry, little bro," he assured me, busying himself with removing his sunglasses and placing his cell phone aside. He took a long sip of his coke before he looked up at me. "So what's all this about?"

"What do you mean?"

"You, asking me for lunch. Isn't this the day where you lovebirds have your quality time during lunchtime?" he taunted me. Even now, four years later, he was still impossible.

"It is, but I… It's the only time I'm not crazy busy this week, and I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh?" he asked, stuffing seven fries into his mouth.

"Ugh, that's gross, Emmett."

"I'm hungry," he shrugged, chewing serenely. "Spill it. What's up?"

I swallowed my fears, and decided to go straight for the kill. There was no point going in circles. Across from me, Emmett was biting into his triple cheeseburger, looking at me expectantly. "I'm going to ask Bella to marry me."

Maybe it wasn't the most brilliant idea to do this here. His face turned a strange shade of purple as he began to cough violently. Pieces of lettuce and mushrooms flew all over the place. I instinctively moved backwards. His cheeseburger landed on the tray in front of him as he reached blindly for his coke. Then, when he was finally recovered, he looked up at me. His eyes were wild. "_Dude_! Are you trying to kill me here?"

"Sorry," I muttered, too distracted by the thing that really bothered me to be worried about him.

Eventually, he was composed enough to speak. "So my baby brother is going to pop the question." That signature naughty grin of his seemed wider than ever before.

"It goes without saying that this is _top secret_, Emmett. _No one_ knows. If you tell _anyone_, if you tell Alice, or Mom, or post it online, I swear I will hunt you down."

He burst into a roaring laughter, unaffected by my threat. "You're keeping this secret with _me_? You must be seriously desperate."

"No have no idea," I replied dryly, absentmindedly sipping my drink.

"Why? It shouldn't be that difficult. If she hasn't run off until now – "

"Gee, thanks Emmett," I said tersely. He just grinned, and bit into his cheeseburger again. "No, Bella has… issues. With weddings. I need to do this right, and I'm not sure I know how."

"So you came for a piece of advice from the expert?" he asked, smiling haughtily.

"Well, I figured that if Rose said yes to _you_, then everything is possible."

He seemed impressed by the backfire, but he didn't comment. He looked deep in thought, which was unusual. "Bella has issues with weddings. Is that why you've waited for so long?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"Well, the first thing you have to do is to keep a low profile. Nothing theatrical or extravagant. An indoors proposal should work as well as a public one."

"_Should_ work? I'm guessing you went with theatrical and extravagant?"

He shrugged. "You know Rose."

I shuddered inwardly at the thought of having to do this in a public place, where millions of unfamiliar eyes were observing me, waiting for me to do one wrong move so they could laugh at my face. "Indoors proposal. Got it."

"Keep it simple and romantic; dinner, wine, candles. There's no reason she'll say no." His smile was genuine now, but overly confident to my taste. "Not even Bella."

The silence pulled me back into the present, into our living room, suddenly stuffy with the smell of wax and our untouched dinner. It wasn't supposed to take so long. According to Emmett's theory, it should be fast and easy, like getting a flu shot. She should have either slapped me or fallen into my arms by now. Maybe even the little I'd done was too dramatic. Of course she would be scared. I should have spared the theatricals altogether and just ask it. I glanced at her fretfully. "You're freaked out, right?"

The tiniest smile curled on her lips, but it was guarded, almost hesitant. "Yes, but not from the reason you think."

That was good then… wasn't it?

She scooted closer to me, so close that I could smell the soap she'd used in the shower after her class, and see the damp hair at the back of her neck, where a few strands had escaped her ponytail. Her eyes were too serious when they met mine, and before she spoke, I just knew what she was going to say. "Edward, I can't marry you."

The fact my guess was correct didn't mean I was ready for the blow.

I didn't know what she saw in my face, but she huffed with what sounded like frustration. "Ugh, that's not how I meant it to sound. I'm… flattered. I am. I'm honored – "

"Flattered? Honored? I just proposed to you, Bella," I spattered, suddenly enraged, and sprang to my feet. I was too concerned with nursing my wounded ego to notice her wince. I couldn't believe this was happening. Damn Emmett and his worthless advices.

"Hey, hey…" She had her arms around me before I managed to cross the room. Upset as I was, I didn't have a heart to shove her away. Her touch weakened me, as it had always done. "I said I couldn't marry you, not that I wouldn't."

The sultry whisper gave me goosebumps. It sounded like a rejection, just the same. I scowled at her. "And there's a difference?"

She nodded and tightened her grip around my neck. "If you drop that pout and sit back down, I'll explain."

Even now, when I was close to being furious with her (which was a first), I could refuse her nothing. I let her lead me back to the sofa. She sat across from me, her knees pressed against her chest. "Fine. Go ahead. Explain," I said sourly.

"You're so cute when you're angry," she mused, flashing a grin at me. "I never realized."

"Are you trying to distract me? It isn't working."

"No. I'm shamelessly stalling because I have no idea how to tell you this."

"Just do." Whatever she had to say, it couldn't have been more humiliating than what I had just done.

Her eyes flickered over my shoulder, to the table I'd set earlier. I didn't want to risk ruining the evening by cooking myself, so I got takeout from our favorite Italian place across from where I worked. "That's so sweet," she sighed. "I wish I would have thought about this."

"What are you talking about?"

"I had something to tell you, too, remember?"

Being too distracted by how my plan had somehow gone incredibly wrong, I didn't remember.

She hesitated, but only for a second. "About two months ago, my ballet teacher gave my name to her friend who was holding auditions for her ballet company. She only chooses a few students every year, so it's kind of a big thing to be even considered for an audition. Before I left for class today…" She stopped and looked up at me. It was obvious she was trying to hide a smile. "I got a call saying I passed the audition. I got in."

"That's _amazing_!" I exclaimed, self-pity all gone. "But you didn't say anything – "

"Because I honestly didn't think I had the smallest chance to get it," she replied. Her smile was timid, as if she still hadn't quite grasped the enormity of what she was telling me.

"I'm so proud of you." I reached out to touch her cheek. She didn't seem as ecstatic as I'd expected her to look. She looked almost troubled. My hand froze. I realized it didn't quite explain her earlier rejection. "How does this have to do with the fact you won't marry me?"

Whatever she had on her mind, it took her a long moment to get herself together. "There's a… certain catch."

"What catch?"

"If I accept this offer, it will mean I'll have to consider relocation."

"Alright, where's the problem with that? Lots of people have done long distance relationships before, you have…" My voice trailed off when I caught on her expression. It went from troubled to tragic. There was something else, something she wasn't telling me. Something that seemed to be making her less enthusiastic about this offer than she clearly should have been. "Bella, what is it?" I whispered, suddenly dreading her reply.

"I'll have to move to London," she said, so low that I thought I misheard her at first. "The audition was for the English National Ballet."

My hand dropped to my lap. The meaning of this sank in painfully slow. "What are you telling me?" I was all too aware of the quiver in my voice.

"Edward, this has been my dream for so long. You know that." Her eyes looked huge as she stared at me pleadingly, as if she'd already made up her mind. "I want to do this. I _need_ to do this. Even if it means…" She wavered as if her own words hurt her, but didn't look away. "Even if it means you wouldn't be able to follow me."

I sat there at loss. The words were an unintelligible sequence, impossible to grasp. I knew she had expected me to respond, but I had absolutely nothing to say to her. Of course, I'd known it was something she'd dreamed of ever since she started studying ballet. It had always been at the back of her mind, even after she declared a few years back that she would be pleased if she managed to get into some marginal ballet company and nothing more. I had no right to resent her for wanting this now. What artist wouldn't want to get a chance at international glory? I would have made the same choice if I were in her place.

Never in my life had I thought I'd have to face such cruel ultimatum. In the past four years, I'd hardly been away from her. I was so used to have her in my life, so lucky to never part with her for too long, and now this offer that could send her career soaring, could tear us her, as tempting as it was, was impossible. It wasn't just my studies or my job, or the fact we'd just bought this apartment. I couldn't bear to leave my family behind. Even though it had been a while since it had happened, my grandfather's death had left a scar in everyone. It was difficult enough for my parents that both their sons now lived literally across the country from them. It would be heartless to drop another loss on them.

But could I really handle losing _her_?

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. I opened my eyes, without realizing I'd closed them. She only said those two words, but it was enough to detect the tremor in her voice. There was unmistaken moisture around her eyes now. "I'm so sorry. I know it's rotten timing and that I should have said something sooner, but I…"

"Shh…" I murmured, brushing her tears away with my thumb. She sniffed as if to stop more tears from coming. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

She gave me a dubious look. I struggled to keep despair out of my expression.

"Come here." I scooped her in my arms and we just sat there for a long moment. She was trembling against me so I knew she was still crying. "You shouldn't be crying," I chided her gently, slowly rubbing her back. "This is a once in a lifetime chance, you know. It doesn't change anything." Pretending was excruciating, but I felt I owed it to her.

"It's so far," she whispered.

A part of me – the one who was desperate at the thought of letting her go – rejoiced in this realization. But it was unfair, and horribly selfish. I shouldn't encourage second thoughts. It would serve my interests well, but not hers. I held her a bit tighter and took a deep breath. Although I dreaded it, I knew what I had to do. "Is this what you really want, Bella?"

"Yes, it is."

The fact she sounded guilty made me feel impossibly worse about myself. But I'd already made up my mind. She'd been there for me in my darkest time. I owed her as much. I wouldn't let her down. "You should go for it, then." Every inch of me wanted to scream in protest. I hoped she wouldn't be able to sense my heart racing.

"You don't really believe that."

I shook my head sadly. "I love you too much to tell you to give it up. Even if I can't follow."

This made her look up. The candlelight was reflected in her stare. It gave her eyes the strangest golden shade. For a moment, I couldn't look away. "You really can't, can you?" she asked, as if there was the tiniest notion of hope that I could.

"No. My family… it'll be too much after – "

"No. Don't apologize," she said, laying a hand against my chest. "I understand. It will be unfair to ask you to throw everything and follow me to London. Kind of romantic, if you could," she said, wrinkling her nose as if she realized how sappy she sounded.

I laughed, but it sounded strange, so wrong. "I'll tell you what's romantic," I said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Italian and wine and candles are romantic. Let's eat before it gets colder."

Fortunately, it made her laugh. I was determined to lighten the atmosphere. It seemed as if both of us needed it. I took her hand and led her across the room. She seemed slightly more recovered when I pulled out a chair for her and poured her a glass of wine. She took a long sip before I even managed to sit down.

We kept the conversation light and shallow, but it didn't last long. The fact of her imminent absence was there in every thing we said, in every momentary pause. It hung above us like the darkest shadow.

"When…" I started, but soon faltered, because I couldn't bring myself to actually say the words. I couldn't believe I was going to lose her soon.

"I'm not sure. They didn't say much on the phone. I'm supposed to meet a spokesman of the company in two days. I'll have to speak to Madame La Pierre tomorrow; maybe she'll know more than I do. It won't happen before graduation, anyway."

It gave us a few weeks. At least I'd have some time to get used to the idea. Something told me it wouldn't be an easy thing to do, though. "Have you told your parents yet?"

"My mom. She flipped," she said, laughing softly. Then she frowned. "I'm not sure how to break this to Charlie."

"He's used to have you on long distance, though." I didn't mean it as offense. This had been their reality before Renée remarried. "Besides, knowing your father, he'll make a scrapbook of anything anyone will ever write on you so he could show everyone at work."

"God, I hope not," she giggled, and her cheeks turned soft crimson.

There was another pause. I just sat there and watched her. Blush lingered on her cheeks, and there was this hint of a smile still ghosting in the corners of her lips. There was no trace of that troubled expression from earlier. The sadness in her eyes seemed to cease.

Before I realized what I was doing, I heard myself speak. "If you didn't…" I stopped, unsure how to continue. She looked up at me expectantly from over her plate. "Under any other circumstances…"

I didn't continue this thread of thought, but this time she understood. "Under any other circumstances I would have said yes," she whispered. I wanted to kick myself when sorrow sipped back into her stare. "I won't marry you and run off to Europe. It's not right. But it's not because I don't want to." She must have seen the shock in my expression, because a dark laugh escaped her then. She shrugged. "I guess I'm growing up."

I forced myself to return her smile, and changed the topic again. I tried not to linger on the fact that if it wasn't for this job offer she would have said yes. That was probably what hurt me the most about the whole thing. Not that she was choosing her career over staying here with me. After my endless worry about her freaking out, it should have made me insanely happy to know that she might have said yes, but it didn't. Because eventually it didn't happen.

Neither of us mentioned the way this evening had started as nighttime fell. We watched TV together, some pointless action film neither of us really was really interested in. It was better than any romantic comedy other channels had on tonight. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle any of those after tonight. I hardly paid attention to the movie. I was content enough to lay there with her in my arms. I slowly pulled the clip that held her hair back and let my fingers straighten it, working their way slowly from top to bottom. It was a while before I realized she fell asleep, somehow with the incredible noise of gunshots and crashing cars coming from the TV.

She didn't stir as I carried her to bed and tucked her in. I stood on the doorway for a second and just watched her, before I headed back to the living room to tidy things up. Most of the candles had burned out by now. Seeing them scattered all around was a painful reminder. It had taken over an hour to get them all lit because my hands were shaking so badly. I remembered being anxious she'd show up earlier than she was supposed to and find me in the middle of lighting them. I shook my head, sending the memory away. It hurt too much. Pretending it had never happened was easier. I quickly made sure the door was locked before I made an escape for the bedroom to get ready for bed.

I lay there in the darkness, wide awake although it was well into the night. The city was unusually quiet. It felt as if I was the only one awake on the planet. Bella's soft breathing next to me was soothing, but sort of painful at the same time. Knowing that our days together were numbered just worsened my insomnia. I stared emptily at the wall I was facing. All evening I kept a calm façade, I tried to be happy for her and encourage her on, like I'd done so far, when all the while, anguish was consuming me from the inside. The thought of parting with her was agonizing to me. It was hard enough when summer came and she stayed with her father. Driving from their place to mine was merely eight minutes, but it felt like miles. So having her literally across the ocean, a continent away… I didn't even want to think about it.

A rustle of sheets disrupted the silence, and the mattress shifted slightly as I suddenly felt her press against my back. "What's wrong?" she murmured sleepily.

I turned to lay on my back. Her eyes were fogged with sleep, and her hair tumbled over her brown tanktop in tangles. She propped herself on one elbow so she could look down at me. I was too drained to even make an excuse. "I can't sleep."

A hint of a smile flickered across her drowsy expression. "Do you want me to sing you to sleep?"

I mock-groaned. "I really rather you wouldn't."

She grinned and leaned down to kiss me. Her lips were warm. The tips of her hair tickled my arms. She hovered above me for a moment, kissing me lazily. I threaded my fingers in her hair to bring her closer. I felt her smile against my lips. I kissed her back, slowly rolling us over. When I pulled away from her, her eyes were gleaming in the darkness. She smiled sweetly at me. Something within me broke.

"I wish you didn't have to go."

I didn't mean to say it aloud. I didn't realize that I had until I detected the shadow that crossed her features as she went rigid in my arms. "I don't _have_ to go. I _want_ to go. There's a difference," she corrected me gently.

"I wish you didn't want to go, then," I said, because it was too late to take back the previous statement. It was selfish and inconsiderate and possibly the worst thing I could say to her.

"Edward…" She sighed. Her eyes were serious and pleading. "This is who I am. This is who I always wanted to be. Please don't ask me to give it up."

"I would never do that," I assured her. "It's just…" I let my voice trail. I wasn't sure how to continue, how to begin to describe the loss her absence would inflict, especially now, when all I really wanted was to tie her to me forever.

As if she knew, she reached out to touch my cheek. "I'll miss you, too." I leaned my face into her palm. "And I _will_ marry you," she promised, inching closer. "I just need to find my way first. I can't ask you to follow me… but I can ask you to wait."

She looked so scared, as if for a moment, she thought I wouldn't. "I'll wait for as long as it takes," I told her.

"That's good enough for me."

I held her gaze for a moment before I lay back down and pulled her closer to me. "Go back to sleep now, okay?" I whispered. She murmured something in reply, but it was swallowed by another rustle of sheets. Her body was warm, and I let it overpower me as I held her tighter, waiting for sleep to find me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three – Bella **

Although I slept the entire night, I woke up the next morning extremely disoriented. I just lay there a few minutes in silence, resenting the need to face this new day with the new dilemmas it was sure to bring about. The memory of last night was too poignant, like an open gash. This coincidence was too cruel to be real. Wasn't it enough I had to choose between him and my career; now I had to cause him so much heartache by turning him down? I knew that if it wasn't for this offer, I would have said yes, I would have married him; not because I didn't want to hurt his feelings with a rejection, but because honestly, there was no one else I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

He was as gracious as he had always been, trying to hide his pain from me, but every now and again his tortured expression would betray his more serene one, the one he worked so hard to maintain. I felt him tossing and turning all night. When he held me, there was certain finality to the motion, as if he was doing it for the last time. Already I hated what it was doing to us, and I wasn't even gone yet. I guess that our careers coming between us was inevitable, and that it was kind of naïve not to expect it, but at the time, he meant too much for me to be troubled by reality. I kept pushing off the need to think about it, telling myself I'd handle it when necessary.

Well, looked like that time was now.

The bed was empty when I finally willed myself to get up. I could smell coffee from down the hall so I knew he was already awake, which was silly as he didn't have a class until noon. I looked around me in a haze. I didn't remember brushing my teeth or anything else, so he must have carried me here at some point of the evening. As I stepped out of bed and began to get ready for the day, I idly wondered at which point the other night I blacked out.

The living room was swimming in sunlight. The candles were all gone. Edward was sitting by the kitchen counter, his legs nearly reaching the floor even on that high stool he was sitting on, his face hidden behind the newspaper he was holding in front of him. Every few moments, an arm would come from behind the newspaper, and long, lean fingers would slowly wrap around a maroon-colored mug, and then disappear behind the paper again.

"It's a little early to start working on that scrapbook," I commented, smirking as he instantly lowered his paper. I ruffled his hair on my way to the coffee maker, unaffected by the glare he aimed at me.

"Funny, Bella," he grumbled, but I wasn't sure which of the two – the remark or the action – he was disapproving.

"Are you planning to keep sulking from now until I'm gone?" I asked casually, although every word stung. If I hoped we could just laugh it off, I'd just been proven wrong. Even that hurt too much.

A smile betrayed his petulant expression. "I thought you said I was cute when I was angry."

"You're cuter when you're not," I whispered, placing my mug on the counter next to his so I could kiss him. I felt him smile against my lips as he put his hands on both sides of my waist to pull me closer. "Why are you up so early?" I murmured, slowly pulling away after a moment. I pressed my forehead to his as I opened my eyes.

His eyes were gleaming when he motioned across the room towards his piano. "Lots of work."

"Well, don't work too hard," I smiled as he slowly released my waist. I sipped my coffee hastily and grabbed my stuff. After I placed my half empty mug in the sink, I came over to stand in front of him again. Sitting on that stool, our eyes were nearly at the same level, although he still had the height advantage. "I love you," I said, struggling to push my heartbrokenness away as I noticed him wince.

"I love you," he echoed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. He held my gaze for a moment. "Have a good day."

I kissed his nose in wordless reply and hurried out.

xoxox

New York in May was amazing. Well, it wasn't entirely accurate. For me, New York was amazing, full stop. Another pang of regret hit me as I took in the familiar sights of my daily path to school. Another thing to part with. So far it felt as if I had more to lose than gain by making this decision. I'd never been to England before, but the stories of cold, wet, misty London were sort of mythical, a universal legend. How different was it to Forks? The weather was one of the things that had nourished my loathing to the town where my dad had lived. Would it be wise to ignore the fact it was going to be the same in England just because I wanted the job?

And as soon as the thought formed itself, I knew I'd already made up my mind no matter which reservations would surface next. I _wanted_ the job. Despite the difficulties and complication and whatever consequences my decision would entail, this was something I owed myself. In a way, I'd never had a choice _but_ taking it.

I wanted to think about something else. I _needed_ to. I couldn't lose my focus so close to the end of the semester, my last in Juilliard ever. It was kind of unbelievable, actually. Graduation was looming closer, a bittersweet fact. I was looking forward to it, but dreading it at the same time. I had made some amazing friends during my time here. Knowing that promises to keep in touch had never held was sort of heartbreaking to me. We'd all become so close, like a big family. Already I was tearing up at the thought of going our separate ways.

Whereas our actual graduation ceremony was months away (I think the date went as far as October), we still had our final recital in the middle of June like every year. It had always been a big deal, but I was looking forward to it especially this year, because Mom and Phil were coming over. They never had before, and it made me strangely proud to have them there in my final performance in Juilliard. Proud and absolutely terrified, of course. I was getting giddy by just thinking about it.

At least, Edward's parents wouldn't be able to come over that weekend. They started making a habit out of coming to New York every once in a while to visit Emmett and Edward. They had rarely done it before – Carlisle had always been to busy with his work; Esme too reluctant to leave Sophie behind – but since Carlisle's dad died, I guessed they felt the need to see their own children as often as their schedules allowed. They'd leave Sophie under someone's care – normally Esme's sister or Charlie – and come over. It was kind of a big thing whenever they came over – we all had a huge dinner at Emmett and Rosalie's place. Being with them wasn't as embarrassing as that first time had been. They embraced me, and pretty soon I started feeling like one of their own.

They were supposed to come over this weekend, I suddenly remembered. Their timing couldn't have been more perfect. After everything that had happened yesterday, both Edward and I definitely needed a change of atmosphere, which was something his parents' visit had always provided.

And it was the perfect distraction too, I now realized. I spent the rest of my walk wondering what we were going to make this time. Since Rose and Emmett did most of the cooking in those family gatherings, Edward and I were officially in charge of desert. This upcoming Friday was Esme's birthday, so I thought I could try one of Anya's mom's recipes. There was this chocolate cake that had passed in their family for generations. It was the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted. I kept meaning to ask Anya to get me the recipe. I couldn't help the idiotic smile I could feel curling on my lips when I thought of Edward, smeared with chocolate and trying to cope with a string of never-ending instructions I'd throw at him. Yes, chocolate cake would definitely be fun. Now I had to make sure I could get that recipe without blushing.

Not much had left of my grin once I got into the school building. My heart began to race again as I made my way upstairs, where our studios were. My first stop was at Madame La Pierre's small office at the end of the hallway. Her door wasn't shut all the way, and there was a rustle of paper coming from inside. I knocked lightly before I peeked in. She looked up from a huge stack of paperwork on her clattered desk.

"Oh, good morning, Bella." She actually smiled at me, which was rare. I wondered what it was about ballet teachers and strict poise. Most people had considered Madame La Pierre a cold-hearted bitch. For me, she was one of my best teachers here. "If you're here so early, I assume you heard the good news," she half said, half asked, her eyes glinting with unusual enthusiasm, her smile widening ever so slightly.

"This is why I'm here," I agreed quietly, kicking myself for being unable to express the same amount of zeal she had.

"Congratulations," she said as I showed myself in and sat across from her. "I had a feeling Philippa would choose you. Eye perception, like I said," she said, pointing her pen to the rim of her reading glasses. Then she did a double take, and slowly lowered her pen as she leaned back in her seat and observed me more closely. "You're not as thrilled as I thought you'd be."

"Oh." The hint of accusation in her voice caught me off-guard, although I guessed I should have expected it. "It's not that I'm not… excited about this opportunity," I said slowly. I didn't want to appear ungrateful. She'd done so much for me already.

"What is it then?"

"It's just a little… complicated." My fingers instinctively wrapped around the heart-shaped locket of my necklace. It was the first necklace he'd given me, and still my favorite.

Her eyes followed the motion, and she nodded with what seemed like understanding. "Oh. I see."

"It's not that I don't want to do this," I said quickly, my initial hesitations resurfacing. "I just don't know if I can."

"Have you told him?"

The question didn't embarrass or surprise me. It was a small school, and teachers were very much involved in every aspect of the students' lives. Everyone seemed to know everything about everyone, especially while working in such close proximity like her and me. She didn't have to say his name. She'd known about us since that miserable spring project on my first year. "I have."

"He doesn't like the idea?" There was a hint of disapproval in the question, almost as if she'd expected more of him.

"No, it's not that at all. He knows what it means to me. He wants me to be happy."

"I still don't see the problem," she said gently.

"I don't know if I can be happy without him," I lowered my gaze as I admitted it. There was something awkward about it; it was something I hadn't even confessed to myself.

"But you've never tried, have you? You'll never know until you try."

Her tone was soothing, like a caress. I looked up to meet her gaze. "If you were in my place…?"

"If I were in your place, I would choose London. And I'm not saying it just because of the interest I have in promoting your professional career." Her eyes were serious, intent on mine. "You might learn a few things about yourself. You might learn this time apart has done you good."

I knew she was right, and that her advice was honest, free of pretenses and professional interest as my teacher. She truly cared; she truly wanted the best for me.

So why did it still feel I was slowly falling apart?

xoxox

Alice and I attended the senior seminar together right before lunchtime. I wasn't happy with having to endure two hours of theoretical course, and by a boring lecturer at that. It had always allowed my mind to wander, and needless to say, today wasn't quite the time for it. I spotted Alice in our usual seats. She seemed jumpier than normal, which in her case meant on the verge of having a stroke.

"What's up with you?" I laughed, taking out my stuff. This was just the distraction I needed.

"I was just on the phone to my mom. Dad and her have decided that as a graduation gift… we're going to Europe for the entire summer!" she announced, squealing. "Of course I'll be sad not to spend the summer with you guys, and with Jasper, but he was supposed to go on that horrific backpack trip to Greece anyway," she said frowning; "So I convinced my parents we would stop in Greece for a few days! Isn't it _awesome_?"

"Very," I agreed. It sounded like the right time to break my news to her. I didn't mean to stall it. I'd known from experience how bad it was to keep things from Alice for long. I took a deep breath, and casually asked, "Are you stopping in London?"

She looked at me as if I were insane. "_Duh_! Haven't I mentioned London was on my top five favorite cities?"

"When you do, we could meet for coffee or something," I said, still in that indifferent tone, enjoying the confusion that took over her joyous expression. Then a huge smile curled on her lips as she all but leaped at me.

"Oh my _God_, that sneaky _bastard_! He didn't say _anything_ to me! I can't _believe_ he's taking you to – "

"I'm not going with Edward," I stopped her. When I finally had her attention, I laughed nervously. "Please don't make a scene," I begged, glancing frantically around. No one minded us. Like us, everyone tried to steal another moment of conversation before class.

She nodded, but I knew it meant nothing. In a second she might forget she'd ever promised me anything.

"I got in the English National Ballet," was all I managed to whisper when Mr. Woodhouse was suddenly by the podium, calling the class to order. I stole a glance at Alice as I straightened up in my seat. Maybe doing this now wasn't the best time. She looked kind of pale. Her lips were frozen in a gasp and her eyes were still wide as she stared at me. I flashed an apologetic smile at her.

I should have known her patience wouldn't hold. As soon as Mr. Woodhouse started speaking, she ripped a page out of her notepad and her hand flew across it as she wrote furiously.

_Oh my GOD! Bella, that's HUGE! HOW???_

I sniggered at her enthusiasm, somehow still audible in purple ink. I picked my pen and replied. _Madame La Pierre has a friend in the management. She got me an audition_. I kept my eyes straight ahead as I pushed the page to her with my elbow. One of us had to remain inconspicuous, at least. From the corner of my eye, I saw her eyes widen further.

_This is CRAZY!!!_ She wrote. _When are you leaving?_

_I'm not sure yet. This summer, I guess_.

_I'm SO proud of you. I can't BELIEVE you haven't said anything!_ She looked up at me. There were dozen questions in her eyes. I just shrugged. She turned the paper to her side and wrote another thing, then pushed it towards me. _How did Edward take it?_

_That's the worst part_, I replied, frowning.

She made a face as she read it. _Do I need to have a talk with my cousin?_

_No, no. He WANTS me to go_.

_What's the problem then?_

I hesitated. I knew she wouldn't let it go until I told her everything. I also knew the kind of trouble I was getting myself into if I said anything right now. But I could feel her eyes on me even though my gaze was still turned straight ahead. I knew she could keep this up until we were dismissed. I sighed and reached for my pen again. _Don't freak out_, I warned her.

She seemed puzzled. _Why would I freak out?_

I took a deep breath, then released it slowly. I'd just do it. She wouldn't let it go until I did, so there was no point waiting until lunchtime. I let my pen linger above the paper before I hesitantly wrote, _Edward… sort of… asked me to marry him last night_.

"_What?_"

The shriek echoed throughout the silent auditorium. Everyone turned to look at us. I shrank in my seat. I could feel my cheeks flare beneath everyone's inquiring gazes. From the corner of my eye I saw that Alice was flustered as well, but whether it was because of my news or because of the fact everyone's attention was set on us, I couldn't quite tell.

Mr. Woodhouse seemed exceptionally annoyed at the sudden interruption to his lecture. "Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us, Miss Brandon?" he asked tersely, glowering at Alice.

For the first time in a very long time, Alice was absolutely speechless for a few moments. "I just…" she stammered, "I can't believe someone will look down on belly dancers that way. It's _so_ unjustifiable. It's almost as serious as racism, as far as prejudice goes. _Everyone_ knows belly dancing is the new flamenco." She said it casually, but there was an edge to her voice when she let out a shaky laughter towards the end.

Mr. Woodhouse didn't seem pleased. "First warning, Miss Brandon," he said dryly, throwing a reproaching glare at me as well. "Please remember there are still a few weeks until the end of this semester. The material from this lecture _will_ be included in your final." He pinned her with another scowl before he resumed his lecture in that same somber, monotonous tone.

xoxox

"Tell me _everything_," Alice demanded as soon as we were dismissed – in a ten minutes delay. Mr. Woodhouse threw a menacing glance at us on his way out of the auditorium as if this holdup was our fault. She promptly ignored him as she grabbed my wrist, pulled me out of my seat, and dragged me up the stairs towards the exit, all the while murmuring to herself, "Oh my God, oh my God, I had a feeling he would – so damn secretive – I can't believe he didn't – _why aren't you saying anything_?" she suddenly yelled at me as she halted.

"You're speaking enough for the two of us, is why," I chuckled.

She huffed and towed me towards the cafeteria. She ordered coffee for both of us and then unceremoniously led me to one of the farthest tables. "I want to know exactly where he did, how he did, what he said – "

"Our place." A frown was beginning to form on her forehead. "There were lots of candles all over the place – " Her expression softened instantly. I couldn't help but smile at the memory of the first thing I saw as I walked through the door. "And then he just… asked it, I guess," I concluded, blushing.

"Oh my_ Goooooood_," she cooed. "You're _engaged_! _Eeeeep_! Let me see – " She pulled my wrist all of a sudden, and inspected my hand. I knew what she was looking for, what she wasn't going to find, and braced myself. She looked up with clear disapproval as she let go of my hand. "Don't tell me my idiot cousin forgot to get you a ring!"

"We, umm, didn't get to that part."

"_Ew_, Bella, spare me!" she exclaimed, covering her ears with mock-horror.

"That's not what I meant, Alice," I shook my head, blushing harder. She was getting more and more like Emmett these days.

"Then what did you… are you trying to tell me…" She gasped as realization hit her, and pinned me with a furious glare. "Isabella Swan, you did _not_ turn my cousin down!"

I shank in my seat and looked down, feeling insanely guilty all of a sudden.

"Why? Why would you do that, Bella?" she asked, sounding genuinely distressed. "He loves you more than anything! Isn't it time you get over this silly wedding fear of yours? History doesn't always repeat itself, you know."

"It's not that," I whispered, feeling that familiar lump down my throat again when I remembered his pained expression from last night. "I _want_ to marry him. I do."

She didn't seem to buy it. "Then what the hell is your problem?"

"I love him too much to say I'll marry him, and then go to England."

We didn't say anything for a moment. When she next looked up at me, I saw a glimpse of understanding in her eyes, but disappointment still dominated there. "Then… you're not engaged," she said slowly, as if she was having a hard time grasping the idea.

"Well, I guess we are… in theory," I conceded, hoping it would satisfy her.

But now her stare seemed kind of tragic as she sighed. "How did he take it?" Whatever she found in my face, she shook her head without waiting for my reply. "That bad, huh?"

"Pretty much," I whispered,

"Ah, Bella, it'll be fine!" she determined, her tone changing completely.

"Everyone keeps saying that," I grumbled.

"Then we probably all know something you don't," she concluded, smiling sweetly as she reached for my hand. "Now, I want you to stop acting like someone has just died and tell me all about this London thing," she ordered. I laughed, but the sound came out all wrong, and I could tell she noticed. But instead of reproaching me, she squeezed my hand and gave me a pleading look. There was not much I could do but lean back and tell her everything she wanted to know.

xoxox

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. I turned down Alice's offer for dinner downtown. I just wanted to take a long shower and crawl back into bed. And then halfway home I remembered I couldn't do that, because I needed to get a few groceries to start working on that cake for Esme's birthday. I groaned softly as I made my way upstairs. I was so ridiculously tired.

Edward was on the phone when I walked in. "… No, it's not as rainy as Forks at this time of the year, so you can probably go lighter than that." He looked up and smiled at me. I blew him a kiss. "Oh, she just walked in, Charlie, hang on."

I cocked an eyebrow. He sounded so friendly – almost overly friendly. Since when was he in such good terms with my dad?

He mouthed 'your dad' as he held out the phone for me. I grinned and came to sit on his lap before I took it from him. "Dad?"

"Oh, hey Bells, what's up?"

"I'm good, how are you? I'm not used to you calling here, is everything okay?" I glanced at Edward. He had that innocent, angelic smirk on, clearly to disguise a know-all smile. He just shrugged and started playing with a strand of my hair. He wrapped his other arm around me to keep me from falling. I frowned at his mock-indifference. I didn't like it when he kept things away from me.

"Everything's great. I called because I had some news."

"News?" I echoed, already, heart slightly racing with panic.

He laughed softly. "Nothing's wrong, kid. I meant it to be a surprise, but I wasn't sure your mom wouldn't let it spill by accident – "

My mom? I only spoke to her yesterday and she didn't say anything about Charlie. "What are you talking about?"

"I know I wasn't acting like much of a dad those years you were in college," he said, ignoring my query. "I should have shown more support, be more involved."

"Don't be silly, Dad," I protested.

"The bottom line is, I should have been there for you more. Therefore – " He paused, and there was a smile in his voice when he next spoke, "I'm coming over for your final recital."

"You're _what_?" I screeched. Edward's smile widened, a reaction to my dumbfounded expression, no doubt, because I was sure Charlie had told him everything before I walked in. To the best of my knowledge, Charlie had never gone out of the boarders of Forks. Seattle was probably as far as he'd gone in two decades. "Are you serious, Dad?"

"Unless you don't want me there," he joked.

"Are you kidding? I'd love to have you here, Dad." The quiver in my voice was downright embarrassing. It was bad enough Edward must have caught it; I could only hope Charlie didn't. "You can stay here with us."

"No, no, I don't want to be a burden on you kids."

"You're staying with us," I settled. "I bet flying over here costs you a fortune as it is."

"Edward won't mind?" Even now, four years later, there was still a certain strain in the way he said his name. Charlie didn't resent Edward anymore, but he wasn't on the best terms with him either. However, he was making efforts to be on his best behavior when he realized Edward was there to stay, and I appreciated him for it. I suspected he sort of warmed up to him the first time Edward's parents asked if he would watch over Sophie. Charlie would never admit it, but he enjoyed every second of her stay back then.

"Of course Edward won't mind," I said automatically, when I suddenly realized I should have probably asked him first. I raised my eyes to his. He just nodded, his gaze serene.

"Okay then, kid."

Then I remembered something he'd said. "How does Mom fit into this again?"

"She called last week and said she and Phil were coming, and she asked if I was coming too. She was sort of pissed off when I said I wasn't sure yet. I thought about it and realized she was right. And I want to be there for you. So yeah, I guess you owe it to her."

I wondered what came over him that made him so willing to finally meet Phil after all these years, but I thought I'd rather not ask. "I can't wait to see you, Dad."

"Me too, Bells. Kind of exciting. I've never seen you dance before." He sighed sort of wistfully. "It feels like I was missing out on so much."

"Well, it's never too late."

"I'll call back when I have everything settled, okay? I just wanted to let you know."

"Sure thing, Dad. Take care." As soon as I hung up, I placed a small kiss on Edward's lips. "Thank you."

He shook his head, somehow knowing exactly what it was for. "You don't need to ask my permission to let your dad stay here, Bella."

"Yes, I do. It's your place."

"Again with this argument," he sighed, and there was a desperate edge to it. He held my gaze for a moment. His eyes were serious. "This is _our_ place. I don't care who paid for this apartment." I sulked in protest, but he was having none of it. "No, I don't want to hear it. This is your place just as much as it is mine." Then after a moment, he grimaced. "Why didn't you tell him?"

The pain in his expression made it clear what he was referring to. "I don't want to think about it for a while."

"You'll have to face it at some point."

"I'll tell him when it's a sealed deal. After that meeting tomorrow. Until then… is it okay if we just… pretend it doesn't exist?"

He laughed softly. "It doesn't mean it'll disappear, Bella."

"I know. But I don't feel like handling it today," I cuddled against him. My head fit in the crook of his neck perfectly.

"What do you feel like doing, then?" he murmured, his soft breathing leaving goosebumps on my skin.

"Shopping," I sighed reluctantly, and tugged at his shirt. "Go put your shoes on."

"We're going shopping?" The question was a combination of puzzlement and amusement.

"Your parents are coming this weekend and there's this recipe I want to try."

"Should I be really scared?"

"Unless you find chocolate cakes overly intimidating," I grinned, and pulled him off the sofa. "Come on. We can get Chinese for dinner."

I began to feel carefully optimistic as I waited for him to get ready. He didn't seem mad at me for turning him down the other night. He seemed recovered from the shock and pain my news inflicted. His parents were coming over in a few days. Charlie was coming to my recital. It was close enough to normal. Pretending no crisis occurred was easy.

Now I just had to remind myself to keep it up.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I am so, so sorry for disappearing! Technical issues are never fun. My laptop has been away for almost a week now, so updating was pretty much impossible. I hope the next chapter wouldn't be in such a huge delay, but unfortunately I can't promise anything. I'll try to post the next chapter as soon as possible. Some of you asked me in their reviews, and I'm assuming others have been wondering too, and so – like the first story, this one is also 30 chapters long, and it also has an epilogue. Those of you who read it via LiveJournal already know this, but I thought the rest of you would want to know as well. Happy reading, y'all – reviews are lovely =)**

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Chapter Four – Edward

Yes, I could definitely get used to pretending. By the next morning, it was as if I'd never proposed to Bella, as if she'd never thrown the bomb of her going away. Our lives went back into their familiar routine incredibly fast. There were other things to worry about, like my piling schoolwork, the approaching finals, Bella's graduation, and most importantly, my parents' visit this weekend.

On Thursday afternoon though, I could feel my determination slowly dissolving. Everything I seemed to gain in the passed two days was slowly collapsing into dust. Bella had her meeting with the people from the English National Ballet right after school. I wanted to go with her, but I couldn't get off work. I was working extra hours this week because Arty, the other pianist who usually worked with the younger groups at the studio, was off sick. So I knew there was no way Olga, my no-nonsense boss, would spare me today.

I used to think that one of the reasons I got this job was the fact my girlfriend was a dancer. I vaguely remembered letting it slip during my interview with no real intention to do so. It was the only thing that seemed to impress Olga at the time. I'd never believed she hired me because of my superior playing. My job didn't require that high a skill. Nonetheless, I enjoyed it. It was keeping me in shape as far as playing went. Whatever practice I didn't get to do at home, I'd done here. Besides, it was better than being a waiter or a salesperson or whatnot. I was lucky to find a job that actually sat well with my professional qualifications.

Today, though, work was nothing but a hassle. No matter how hard I tried to focus on the score in front of me, my mind was completely elsewhere. The dancers were all my age or slightly older, most of them aspiring actresses who took ballet lessons to get into shape as preparation for a possible audition. Whereas I'd recognized some faces from last year, there were a few new girls who joined in this year. I didn't know most of their names, even though it was already May. I'd never excelled in matching names with faces. I tried to watch them, hoping their slow movements would somehow calm my frenzied thoughts, but to no avail. I hated to sound so cliché, but none of them stirred the same interest in me as Bella had when I'd watched her dance.

I wondered how she'd be like when she'd get back from her meeting. I couldn't decide if I wanted her to be excited about whatever they'd tell her, or let down. A part of me still wanted her to have second thoughts, but the other part of me thought how unfair it was – she would have shown support had the tables been turned. I made a decision and I had to stick to it no matter what. If I had decided to support her, that was what I had to do.

"That is all for today, ladies. I shall see you all on Monday."

At the sound of this dismissal, I placed the score aside with a sigh of relief. The silence in the studio was replaced with a quiet hum of conversations as the girls got ready to leave. I nodded goodbye to Olga and began to cross the room towards the door.

"Have a good weekend, Edward," one of the girls, Jordan, smiled at me. I barely noticed as I hurried out and away.

I checked my phone the moment I went into the bustling street. I had no unanswered calls, but Emmett had texted me to make sure we were still available for the next night. I stopped at the corner of the street to type a fast reply. I hadn't told him about the disastrous proposal yet, although I meant to. Ever since I asked for his advice about a month ago, he cornered me in any given chance, asking if I'd done it already. I wondered how he would react when I told him how it went.

Our grim reality crushed back in as soon as I got into our street. I crossed the street and looked up. There was light in our apartment, so I knew Bella was home. I stayed on the sidewalk for a moment, struggling to compose myself, to stable my breathing. I guess it was the end of pretending.

The smell hit me even before I unlocked the door, and I confirmed my suspicions when I saw Bella taking a tray of lasagna out of the oven as soon as I walked in. The sweetest smile curled on her lips when our eyes met. I returned it carefully as she walked over to me and wrapped her arms around my neck.

I grimaced and sniffed the air. "Lasagna, huh? Ah-oh. It's really bad, isn't it?"

She laughed softly. "You can't complain. I'm merely using your own tactics against you."

I tried to laugh, but it came out all wrong. There was this tension in the air, thick and unfamiliar. I looked down at her. She'd taken her shoes off, and wearing only her socks, she suddenly looked tiny. I gave her an expectant look. "So?"

"It sounds amazing," she confessed, and there was a hint of guilt in her voice. "The basic contract is for a year with an option for extension if I do well. They will take care of most of the bureaucratic issues from their end so I wouldn't have to worry about it. They send someone to pick me up from the airport so I don't get lost. They provide accommodations for newcomers, and that's actually the best part."

She stopped to catch her breath. "Renée called about half an hour ago. Her friend Doreen has a friend in London who goes to Edinburgh for the year as part of some charity she's involved in. She's been looking for a house-sitter and Doreen happened to talk to her and mentioned I might be able to do this. The dates match, and the location of this house is perfect. It's, like, right around the corner from where I'm supposed to be."

Her eyes were gleaming when she looked up at me. It was difficult to take in all that bliss when misery threatened to pull me under. "How… how soon?" My voice cracked. It sounded like a death sentence.

Her body went rigid as her stare became more careful. "July," she whispered. "I already called Charlie to tell him. I thought we could tell your parents tomorrow."

I nodded, my mind a blur. Two months. So little time. For a moment I felt like being selfish, telling her to leave it and stay here, stay here and marry me and pretend she had never got this offer. But I knew it would make her miserable, and I couldn't have that. Hurting her was more unbearable than letting her go.

There was the lightest pressure on my neck. I blinked, and met her pleading gaze. "Please don't do that. It will be fine. It will be good for us. I promise." She pecked my lips and slowly slid her arms from my neck down my arms, until she found my hands and let her fingers lace with mine. Giving me that sweet smile again, she led me to the table, and I couldn't help but think of the irony of it. Only a few days ago, it was me reassuring her. Now I struggled to keep myself together. There wasn't much to do but follow her lead.

I decided that the less I'd think of our looming separation, the less painful it would be. I knew it was stupid. Once she would be gone, the enormity of her absence would crush on me with such force I wouldn't know how to cope. But now I didn't care. I didn't want to think about it, as long as I had her.

xoxox

We spent Friday afternoon in the kitchen, baking a cake for my mother's dinner party, but mostly fooling around. For the past two days we'd been experimenting because Bella wanted to try a recipe she'd got from Anya. Helping her in the kitchen had become a guilty pleasure of sorts. I wasn't a very good cook on my own, but with the right guidance, I was pretty decent. Under Bella's endless patience, I actually managed to learn a thing or two.

"Just keep stirring it until it all has the same texture," she said, glancing at me from over her shoulder as she broke a few eggs into a bowl.

"I'll burn it," I mumbled, looking fretfully at the pot she'd left me in charge of.

"No, you won't," she laughed softly, and came over to the stove. She placed her hand on mine and I watched our joined hands as we stirred the slowly melting chocolate together. "See?" she murmured, her breathing hot against my neck. "Easy."

I leaned to my right so I could kiss her, but she was already across the room, finishing what she'd started. "You tease," I accused her, but she was with her back to me, pretending not to hear me although I was sure she did.

"When there are no chocolate chunks in there, put a little of the liquor in," she said, nodding towards a tall bottle of cherry liquor, on the counter between us.

"How much is 'little', exactly?"

She turned to face me, and the glimmer in her eyes told me she was extremely amused by whatever it was I said. "I think I'm beginning to see what the problem is with you and cooking," she said, walking towards me again.

"Really? What's that?"

"You're being too… analytical about it. You can't work with your head while cooking. It's a matter of instincts, of feeling, of working… from here," she said the last two words standing right in front of me, and laying her palm over my heart. My breathing was embarrassingly loud in the silence that suddenly took over the room. I held her gaze for a long moment before any of us could look away. When she tried to walk away, I grabbed her hand, a bit too forcefully than I initially intended. She lost her balance and held on to my chest for support. I took advantage on her forced nearness and leaned down to kiss her.

It caught her off-guard, I could tell, but she didn't pull away. She eased against me and slowly wrapped her arms around my neck, letting me delve deeper into the kiss. I pushed her a bit backwards until we crashed against the opposite counter, still kissing fervently. Then after a moment she pulled away suddenly, giggling breathlessly. "You stole some of that chocolate, didn't you?"

"I did not," I shook my head with mock-horror.

"I can taste it," she grinned, and the tip of her tongue grazed her upper lip in a way that drove me absolutely crazy. "You know what they do to chocolate thieves," she continued, her grin an inch wider, her voice sultry and threatening, as her hands roamed across my chest.

"Care to enlighten me?" I asked, letting my fingers drift to the hem of her tanktop. She gasped when I found her stomach.

"I would have, but we need to get this cake right first."

"Well, that's too bad, because I'm not done with you yet," I pointed out, my lips meeting hers again. The thin material of her top brushed against my hands as I held her tighter. Her fingers threaded in my hair, forcing my head down. I wanted to snigger at her eagerness, but I was too comfortable to be bothered. This was another thing I liked about spending time in the kitchen with Bella. It had hardly involved any cooking at all.

"Crap, turn the fire off," she rasped all of a sudden, pushing me backwards abruptly.

I followed her orders, somewhat disoriented, and took the pot off the stove. I placed it carefully on the counter and observed its contents. It didn't look ruined. I looked up at Bella with that same hope in my eyes. She still looked breathless, and her cheeks were slightly flushed.

Before I realized what she was doing, she dipped one finger into the pot. There was this naughty glint in her eyes when she held her chocolate-covered finger to my lips, clearly meaning for me to taste it. I gulped, then slowly parted my lips, just enough for her to slip her finger between them.

It wasn't ruined, that's for sure. The flavor lingered on my tongue, sweet and perfect. It made my gums ache. I kept my eyes locked on hers as I lightly sucked on her finger. I heard her sharp intake of breath; her eyes became very dark. I grinned as I slowly released her finger.

"Just leave it on the counter to, umm, cool down," she murmured, her cheeks deep crimson. She seemed deliciously dazed.

"Cool down. Right."

Not wanting to mess up my mother's birthday cake, we tried to be on our best behavior throughout the rest of the baking process. I did everything she asked me to, and I could tell she was getting a kick out of it, so I pursed my lips and let her have her way.

I did, however, protest when her intention to get me drunk on cherry liquor revealed itself to me a while later. She pouted, clearly displeased by my refusal.

"Do you really think it will be wise to get me drunk before we meet my parents?"

"Wise? No, probably not. But hilarious," she smiled angelically.

Finally, we were done. I looked at the cake she'd just trapped inside the oven, and sighed with relief. "Now what?"

She flashed a mischievous grin at me as she walked over to me again. "Now I race you to the shower," she said in that low tone again. "And if I win, you get to wash my hair."

I might be a hopeless cook, but I wasn't stupid. Of course I let her win.

xoxox

My mood switched entirely as we made our way to Emmett and Rosalie's place that evening. It was a warm evening so we decided to walk instead of hailing a taxi like we'd normally do. I thought it was our unconscious way to spend more alone time with one another before the family mayhem began. It was silly but even now, four years into this relationship, I could never get enough of spending alone time with her.

I was slightly nervous about telling everyone tonight, especially considering I wasn't too keen on the idea of her leaving. But it was the best opportunity to break the news to them since they were all here and I wasn't sure how soon my parents would be back here again. Alice went to Atlantic City for a concert with a friend, so she wasn't going to join us, but I suspected Bella had already told her everything. There was something careful in the way she spoke to me just the other day. I hoped she knew better than telling Emmett. It was the one thing I wished she'd keep for herself.

Everything was ready in Emmett and Rosalie's place when we arrived. I could hear my brother's booming laughter echoing in the hallway from the moment we stepped out of the elevator. I rolled my eyes at Bella. She smiled, equally amused. She knocked, since I was holding the cake and everything else. Rosalie opened the door for us, beaming at the two of us as if it had been weeks since we'd last met. "They're here!" she called from over her shoulder, ushering us in.

"Good, I'm starving," Emmett declared from across the room as both my parents came forward to greet us.

I held out the cake for Rosalie, but Emmett was by my side in four long strides. "Let me take it, man."

I shrugged and gave it to him, and walked over to give my mother a hug. "Happy birthday, Mom."

"Thanks, honey. My greatest gift is being here with you."

"Damn, I knew we didn't have to spend so much on a present," I joked.

She laughed and ruffled my hair. "You shouldn't have, regardless. You've given me so much already." Her smile widened an inch when Bella joined us. "My darling Bella."

"Happy birthday, Esme," said Bella, gently kissing my mother's cheek. I raised my eyes to acknowledge my dad. He nodded back and smiled. He wasn't one for hugs and endearments. My mother did enough of that for both of them.

In the kitchen, Emmett was checking out the cake we brought. "Dude, please tell me you didn't have anything to do with this cake," he said, and his look was piercing even from across the room. I couldn't decide if the horror in his voice was real.

"He did, actually," Bella interjected, flashing a flirtatious grin at me, one I hoped none of them caught.

Emmett snorted. "You two are too cute. You should totally be on a cooking show on TV. _In the Kitchen with Eddie and Bellie_. I guess no one will want to produce this kind of show though, because there'll always be the risk of viewers complaining after tasting anything Edward attempts to – "

"Ah, come on, Em, even Edward can't ruin this kind of cake," Rosalie said, smiling kindly at me. "It looks gorgeous."

"Any food in any form looks gorgeous to you these days," he grumbled.

"Oh, I must have got it from you!"

Given that both Emmett and Rosalie were determined to have the final word, we were lucky they were both hungry enough to let go of their banter and start on dinner. The first half an hour or so was normal, as far as normal went in our family. My mom told us how Sophie was doing these days. Emmett entertained us with a hilarious tale about the group of kids he was coaching in the school he worked at. I told them a bit about my studies, and Bella told my mom about the market she and Alice discovered last Saturday. Then at some point, the conversation sort of died. Bella's eyes met mine, and by the urgency in her stare, I knew what she was asking. I nodded, although reluctantly, and I could feel my heart beating slightly faster than usual when she cleared her throat.

"We, umm… well, I have something to tell you."

That was enough for Emmett, who immediately stomped on my foot, his eyes full of questions. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I knew exactly what he was thinking she was going to say. I could see the anticipation in his eyes.

"It's, umm, kind of a big thing," she said, her voice quivering slightly. Now that she had everyone's attention, she seemed nervous. I took her hand beneath the table and squeezed it gently, all the while ignoring Emmett's inquiring stares across from me. "I got a job in London."

From the corner of my eye I saw Emmett slump in his seat, sort of baffled. No one else noticed though. I tried to shut out everyone's exclamations and congratulations. I knew she deserved it, that I had no right to resent it, but it made everything much more real.

"We're so proud of you, honey," my mom said. Bella's gaze drooped to her plate. Her cheeks flared.

"This is a wonderful opportunity, Bella," my father said, and his eyes flickered to me. "But you still have one more year to complete."

"I'll be staying in New York," I said quietly, wincing when Emmett stomped on my foot again, harder this time.

There was death silence around the table, as if our problem had just dawned on them.

"Well," Rosalie said after a while, smiling encouragingly at Bella. "I know what it's like when someone acknowledges your talents. This is a chance of a lifetime, Bella. You're such a wonderful dancer. I'm sure you'll do well."

"Thank you, Rosalie," Bella whispered, but her discomfort was apparent to more than just me.

Rose laughed casually, but there was an edge to the sound. "As for Edward, I guess it's up to us to feed him from now on."

"Gee, thanks, Rose," I muttered, blushing all the way to my ears at the sound of everyone's chuckles.

She definitely achieved her goal though. Her teasing comment put an end to the awkward silence. The conversation resumed on a more careful note now. My parents asked Bella a few more question about how this chance had come to be, and about her staying in London. I tried not to listen, to focus on my dinner, but suddenly I lost my appetite.

As soon as dinner was over, Emmett announced he was in charge of the dishes. He towed me into the kitchen area saying that he needed help. I knew what this was about so I didn't protest. I sighed and followed Emmett when everyone else turned the other way.

"Dude, what the hell?" he hissed as soon as we were out of everyone's hearing range. "I thought you were going to… you know!"

"I have," I sulked. It was a relief to finally tell someone in the know. "On the same day she got this job."

"_Shiiiiit_," he muttered, but he looked genuinely sorry. "This sucks, man."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Instead of sticking the dishes in the dishwasher, he threw a towel into my hands and started washing the dishes by hand – to earn us more time to talk, no doubt. "Did she freak out when you proposed like you thought?"

"That's what hurts the most. She didn't. If it wasn't for this job…"

"Have you considered the other option?"

"I can't move to London, Emmett. Not even for her." It was the first time I said the words aloud. There was something excruciating about hearing them spoken aloud.

"Yeah, I know."

We worked in silence for a moment. I knew he had to face a similar dilemma in the past, when Rosalie got that job offer in Los Angeles. Their move to the West Coast seemed pretty seamless, but now I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it. "When Rose got the job in Los Angeles…"

"That's different, Edward. We're married. We considered everything very carefully before she took that offer. But your case… she's not tied to you in any way. She's free to go if she wants. You can't make her stay."

"I wasn't going to. This is what she wants. I'll never stand in her way."

He looked up at me. For once, his stare was serious. "I'm sorry, man."

"Come on, you two. It's time to open some presents!" Rosalie's voice chimed in. "And I'm dying to try that cake!"

Emmett sniggered to himself as he took the cake out of the fridge. I grabbed a knife and some plates from the cupboard and followed him into the living room.

"Presents first, cake later," he declared as we placed everything on the coffee table.

I went to sit next to Bella, which – for once – didn't entail a teasing response from Emmett. He still seemed somewhat stunned by what I'd told him.

"This one's from Alice," said Bella as she passed a small wrapped box to my mother. There was my father's bracelet, and the Victorian brooch Bella and I found in the Village a couple of weeks ago. Everyone oohed and aahed on everyone else's gifts, and my mother seemed pleased with everything. When Emmett and Rosalie were the only ones left, Emmett stood up and walked over to my mother's side and knelt by her seat.

"I think you're going to love our present the most," he said, smiling sheepishly, "but unfortunately, you will have to wait a little longer to get it."

His statement was followed by a collective groan. "Lame, Emmett," I laughed. He used to do just that when we were kids and he didn't have money to get anything for Mother's Day.

"We do, however, have a picture of our present," he continued in this businesslike manner, as he handed her a thin manila envelope. She seemed puzzled when she took out an x-ray. There was this moment of silence as she moved her gaze from the x-ray to Emmett and back. It took all of us a second to get it, but as soon as we did, the room exploded with shrieks.

"Oh my _God_!"

"Is it… _really_?"

"Congratulations, guys!"

"It's about damn time!"

Emmett's grin was so wide now it nearly cracked his face. "I told you you'd love our present the most, _grandma_!"

My mother didn't seem aware of the tears that were streaming down her face as she sprang out of her seat and gave Emmett, and then Rosalie, a crushing hug. "I can't believe you haven't said anything!" she exclaimed, laughing and crying at the same time.

Emmett snorted. "_Please_. Like you couldn't guess. Rose has been eating like a pig recently; she actually got worse than me. That's how we found out, of course." Standing behind the sofa Rosalie occupied, he lay a hand on her shoulder. The sweetest smile, a tender one I'd never seen before, passed between them.

"When are you due?" asked Bella. Her eyes, like my mother's, were gleaming with tears.

"October," replied Rosalie. "You'd better be able to come over to see her."

"It's a _girl_?" I'd never heard my mother squeal until that moment.

"Oh _no_. I know what you're thinking, Mom. No pink dresses or head bows or junk like that. Leave that for Sophie. This kid will wear nothing but Nike shoes and Yankees tee shirts."

"We'll see about that," Rosalie laughed, laying her hand on her nearly invisible bump.

I went over to give Emmett a hug. "Don't cry, Uncle Edward," he chided me, but I could see the emotion swell in his own stare.

"I'm not crying," I rolled my eyes. "Someone's better text Alice or she wouldn't speak to us for months."

"I'm on it." Emmett all but launched himself at the coffee table to snatch the phone.

"Okay, okay, _cake_!" Rosalie hollered, which was unusual. I guessed we _should_ have noticed, I thought with a smile, as I reached for the knife.

As the evening continued, I tried to vent my emotions to Emmett and Rosalie's good news rather than Bella's bleak ones. I thought about the short conversation I'd had with Emmett earlier. If he didn't follow Rosalie to Los Angeles, would it affect their marriage very much? Would it be the end of it, or would it bring them closer together? And did it really matter that Bella and I weren't married? We'd been together for four years now; wasn't it as close a couple could get to marriage? Whatever was going to happen, I hoped with all my heart that neither of us would regret their decision – neither Bella for leaving for London, nor me for not following her there.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five – Bella**

It was as if someone hit the 'fast forward' button. Or maybe it was because the next few weeks were chaotic with finals to study for, suitcases to pack and routines to put together, mostly that last one. Our final recital was only days away now. It seemed so hard to believe we were finally a step away from graduation.

School officially ended a week ago, and we were left with an extremely intense rehearsal period in preparation for our recital. This time of year had always been hectic, but this year it felt especially so, with us being seniors and all that. The performance was on a larger scale than the annual end of the year recital, and we could feel the pressure as a result of it. We'd been rehearsing literally from day to night, and when I got home at the end of each day, I barely made it to bed. Mornings were getting exceptionally difficult.

"Bella."

I grunted. His voice was velvet, distinct even in this hazy state of pre-wakefulness.

"Sweetheart, wake up."

Even the pleasantness of the sound wasn't enough to make those words less horrible. Morning already? Ugh. "Ten more minutes."

"Your alarm went off fifteen minutes ago." Soft laughter accompanied the low murmur. Hot breathing was tickling the skin below my ear. "Come on. You'll be late for rehearsals."

"Don' wanna." I was hurt everywhere, all the way to my toes. Even a hot shower the other night couldn't ease my sore muscles. I just wanted to drift back into that sweet, blissful nothingness and sleep for a century.

There was a snigger, and a pull on the covers. "Bella, it's impossible to perform _Swan Lake_ when the main Swan is a no-show."

I opened my eyes a crack with a groan. He was kneeling next to my bedside, grinning so widely as if people hadn't teased me all month with similar puns and comments. I frowned. He looked so… awake. Annoyingly so. I used to be such a morning person before this stupid recital. "They'll get over it," I said, turned my back to him, and pulled the covers over my head.

"Nice try, love," he laughed and pulled the covers back. Sunlight spilled into the bedroom, hurting my eyelids. I pressed my knees against my chest and curled into a fetal position, trying to shrink myself against the light. It made him laugh. "Take a shower, you'll feel better. I'll get you some coffee."

I sat up and ran a hand through my mess of a hair. It was stiff since it hadn't dried properly after my hasty shower the other night. Now that I thought of it, I didn't have any recollection of getting out of the shower. I must have been dozing off beneath the stream again. "Maybe if I don't show up, they give the part to someone else."

"I'd rather see _you_ dance, if you don't mind," he laughed, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. "Besides, it will be kind of cruel considering your parents are coming especially to see you."

"Get me that coffee," I grumbled, already consumed by guilt.

His laugh echoed even after his steps ceased down the hall.

xoxox

It took a huge mug of coffee to get me out of bed and into fresh clothes. Then it took another one in a thermal cup in addition of a chocolate muffin (and one to go) to get me out of the apartment. Renée and Phil were coming from Jacksonville at some later point of the day, so I reminded Edward to make reservations in our favorite diner, one that was also close to school. I just hoped I wouldn't get stuck in rehearsals. Charlie wouldn't be here until two days before the show. Anticipation babbled within me, momentarily sending fatigue away. It was going to be a very exciting week.

Everyone seemed to be in a similar shape when I arrived at the auditorium – half asleep yet keyed up, and hugging coffee cups of all shapes and sizes. It was still noisy there, because people from the orchestra were tuning their instruments all at once. Normally I wouldn't mind it. Today it sounded exceptionally loud. I looked around. Alice was nowhere to be seen, nor was Anya. I spotted Megan, one of my classmates, at the farthest end of the stage, and went to join her. She was having tea, by the smell of it. Raspberries, I thought. I was too tired to even ask.

Madame La Pierre made sure each student would get the spotlight, even if for a moment. She said it was only fair, after working so hard for four years. Each of us had a solo to perform, in addition to some group pieces. Both Anya and I got to be princesses, she in _Sleeping Beauty_, and me in _Swan Lake_. Alice got to do a modern variation, by her very own choreography, and we were all very proud of her for that. Other than that, we all had to take part in the bigger numbers, plus the opening and closing numbers.

Overall, I enjoyed every second of the rehearsal time, because I got to spend some extra time with many people I probably wouldn't see after graduation. As exhausting and demanding as it was, it was a time I knew we'd all remember. Everyone seemed to be carrying cameras with them in the past month. It was a bittersweet time for all of us.

Alice showed up after a while, dragging her feet in our direction. She didn't seem so hyper this morning, which probably meant everything. Her eyes were still half shut when she collapsed next to us. "Good morning," she murmured, and snorted. "Morning. Huh. It feels as if I closed my eyes five minutes ago."

Megan and I both grumbled our agreement.

"Your mom is coming today?" she aimed her unfocused gaze at me.

"Yeah. I hope Phil has a better sense of orientation than she does, because I won't be able to go find them if they get lost in the airport," I yawned.

"Send Edward."

"I can't, he has one of his finals this afternoon. Or was it yesterday?" I completely lost track on time. I was lousy company since rehearsals had started. I made myself a mental note to get him something for having to put up with me these days.

Our instructors, like Edward this morning, all looked well rested and refreshed. It was especially irritating considering there was another performance due a couple of days after ours, the general one for the entire school, and they were in charge for both rehearsal sessions, literally having to be in two places at the same time. Somehow they all seemed miraculously unaffected by this fact. I wondered if it was something they gained from experience.

"Good morning, people! Actors and dancers center stage for warm-ups please!"

"Ugh, here we go," Alice groaned at the sound of the announcement. "Dance 'till you die. They should print it on our programs."

"Less talking, more moving, Miss Brandon," Miss Ellen said, but couldn't help crack a smile.

Alice pouted, but did as she was told, somehow looking graceful even while exhausted. I followed suit. There was no point to protest or argue. Besides, the earlier we started, the earlier we'd leave. And in a few hours, I'd see my mom. The thought made me smile. I shook my head, feeling slightly more awake.

xoxox

We'd been dismissed earlier than usual this evening, which was fortunate. Edward had already texted me he was on his way to meet up with Renée and Phil. I got dressed in a haste. Thankfully, I wouldn't be horribly late, just half an hour or so. It could have been much worse. I said goodbye to everyone and dashed out. I ran all the way to the diner and got there in no time but breathless. I stood on the threshold for a second, steadying my breath. The lights in the diner were too bright. I squinted and blinked a few times, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"Bella!"

I looked up as soon as I heard my mother's voice, somehow louder than all the other voices in the busy diner. She came rushing towards me, and we threw our arms around each other at about the same time. I let her gush for a few moments, although her incredibly fast speech made me dizzy. Then I followed her to the booth at the back, where Phil and Edward were waiting. I saw a flicker of concern in Edward's eyes, but I shook my head in dismissal. I gave Phil a short awkward hug. It was still sort of strange to think of him as my step dad.

I slid into the leather-covered bench along the wall next to Edward. Their order arrived about ten minutes after I joined them. They ordered for me too, which was fortunate because I was famished. I downed half of my coke in one go. Edward shook his head, smiling his crooked smile at me.

My mom told me more about Doreen's friend in London, whose apartment I was going to watch during my stay. It had never ceased to amaze me how close the two of them remained even after my mom's move to Florida. Then she wanted to know how rehearsals were going, and if I needed any help with my packing. My answers were short, for both. I didn't want to bore them with technical details about our rehearsals, and packing for London was an issue both Edward and I would rather avoid. Edward, clearly sensing my distress, hurried to distract her with a few questions of his own. This was how she started telling us all about her and Phil's itinerary in New York City for the next several days. I forced myself to focus on her story, on the taste of my cheeseburger, on the heat that sipped through Edward's jacket. The less I'd think about my drooping eyelids, the less sleepy I'd feel.

I didn't know how it happened, but at some point something grazed my cheek. I blinked, startled and extremely disoriented, to find Edward grinning at me, his hand hovering a few inches away from my face.

"I can't take you anywhere anymore," he teased me, his voice low, as if the comment meant only for me. This was when I realized I was leaning against his shoulder, cuddling against his jacket. I could feel my face begin to burn. I wanted to crawl under the table and die. I couldn't believe I'd just fallen asleep in public.

"You sure you're okay, Bella?" Even Phil looked concerned as I straightened up and finger-combed my hair.

"I'm fine. Those rehearsals are wearing me out, that's all." I reached for my glass, but it was already empty. Edward pushed his own glass in my direction. I flashed him a grateful smile. From the corner of my eye I saw Renée and Phil exchange worried glances, but they didn't say anything about it.

"It's your birthday soon, Edward, isn't it?" my mom asked.

"Next week, yes."

"Are you celebrating?"

"Bella is being all secretive about it," Edward replied, rolling his eyes before he grinned at me. "She's so dazed these days I doubt she even remembers what she's planned in the first place."

"Hey," I hit his arm. "I _do_ remember. But it's still a surprise so stop looking for ways around it." I was going to take him to the amusement park in Coney Island. Alice couldn't stop laughing at me when I told her, and I guess it _was_ sort of infantile, but I was leaving the week afterwards, and I wanted our last days together to be something fun, something we'd both remember, not a time we'd spend with grim faces and despair.

Edward looked outraged by my accusation. "I was answering your mom's question! I stopped looking for ways around it after even Alice refused to tell me what it was all about."

"You'll find out soon enough," I promised him, yawning again. I flashed my mom an apologetic smile. "Maybe we should have dinner at our place tomorrow."

"Because it's less awkward when you fall asleep with no witnesses," Edward chided me, squeezing my hand beneath the table. I stuck my tongue at him.

We didn't spend much time at the diner after that, because I was beat. We walked mom and Phil to their hotel and found a cab back to our place. It was surprisingly chilly when we finally got home.

"So did you really ask Alice what I planned for your birthday?" I asked him, slipping my hand into his as we stood on the sidewalk in front of our building.

"I wasn't deliberately seeking for the information, if that's what you're thinking," he laughed softly. "It came up in a conversation. She wasn't willing to say anything anyway." Then he cleared his throat, looking kind of embarrassed. "She did, umm, mention it was G-rated," he ran a hand through his hair. I thought he was blushing, but it was too dark to tell.

I grinned and took a step closer, my exhaustion all gone for a hint of a second. "Disappointed?" I whispered, my lips grazing his ear.

"I don't know, should I be?" There was the tiniest quiver in his voice. His hand was suddenly on my waist, pulling my closer.

"I don't _think_ so," I smiled sweetly. "Then again, how can you be so sure I've shared my entire plan with Alice?"

He gulped, and sort of gaped at me. "Have you?" It sounded as if he had difficulties to form even this short question.

I pressed my lips to his neck and gently sucked on his skin. He inhaled sharply. I looked up at him. "I think I'll let you ponder over it," I smiled, took his hand, and pulled him into our building.

xoxox

Two days before the performance, it was hard to keep my focus, not because I was tired. My body was sort of used to the constant exhaustion now. I was on edge all day because Charlie was on his way here. I really wanted to meet him at the airport, but since it was a dress rehearsal, we'd been held back here for longer than any of us had planned. Edward said that he didn't have a problem to get Charlie for me, and while I suspected Charlie wouldn't be pleased with this arrangement, I thought it would do them good to spend a bit of quality time together. Edward promised to text me when he'd meet up with Charlie, but my phone was in my bag while I was onstage, so I had no way of knowing if they had met at all.

When we were finally done, I raced to get my phone. Edward's text was there, as promised, a few hours old, telling me Charlie had arrived safely, that they were heading to our place and if I could please get some pizza on my way back. There was another text from Renée, gushing about a musical they were going to see tonight, and asking if Charlie was there yet. Telling myself I could reply later, I hurried to the showers, determined to be on the first round. I was out of the building before anyone else had, except for a few teachers who were on their way home.

Even in my hazy state of mind, it didn't take me long to spot them sitting there. I halted, and did a double take. I was pretty sure I shrieked when I launched myself – in a very Alice-like manner – into Charlie's arms.

"Whoa, careful, kid," he laughed, nearly toppling backwards. His cheeks were slightly flushed when I released him. Neither of us was for displaying public affection, but I could see it made him happy. "You look dead on your feet, Bella," he reproached me, tucking a strand of my hair behind me ear, another unusual gesture on his side.

"I'm fine. I'm so glad to see you," I said, hugging him again, and smiled at Edward from over his shoulder. "Are you all settled?"

"Yeah. A very nice place you've got here, Bells," but he winced as soon as he said it, as if he suddenly remembered it wouldn't be mine for long.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your school is part of our sightseeing tour," Charlie replied, and turned to smile at Edward.

I gaped at the two of them. I'd never thought I'd see the day they would get along so well. I threw Edward an incredulous look. He grinned in reply. _Isn't that what you wanted?_ His eyes asked. And I didn't protest because it was.

"I thought that instead of you're getting pizza we could go someplace," Edward explained, then gave me a closer look. "Unless you prefer to go home now?"

"No, no. I'm okay. We can go someplace." I chuckled and threw my dad a taunting look. "Sightseeing tour, huh?"

"Half a tour, really. We'll be doing the rest tomorrow."

"I have a day off," Edward explained, and that smile passed between them again.

I couldn't help but wonder if this seemingly newly-found friendship would hold once my dad learned about Edward proposing.

xoxox

The buzz of exhilaration hung, thick and contagious, in the dressing rooms on the night of the performance. It was a tradition that flowers and good luck cards were delivered backstage before the show. This evening there seemed to be twice as many of them. Each dressing room exploded with them. Their scent carried heavily in the hallways, mixed with the more familiar scent of makeup, perspiration and chalk powder. It sipped into the dressing room I shared with Alice and a few of our classmates. It was nice, unique, but sort of too much in such a small space. I wished I could get one of the small windows open, but I was sitting too far away from one.

"Aww, isn't Jasper the cutest?" Alice gushed, eyeing a huge bouquet of lilies. Each of us had her own share of tonight's excitement. Mom and Phil sent me flowers. Charlie didn't, but I knew better than be offended by it. He wasn't a flowers guy. The Cullens sent both of us roses with a card apologizing they couldn't be there with us. We even got flowers from Emmett and Rosalie. There was one perfect orchid for me with a small card that had nothing but _I love you_ written on it. I didn't need a signature to know who this was from.

"Very beautiful," Anya agreed. She still had those language slips from time to time, although four years had made all the difference in the world. She'd hardly made any mistakes these days, although it sort of threw me off whenever she'd tried to incorporate American slang in any form into her speech. Her eyes moved from Alice's huge bouquet to my single flower, and she flashed me this know-all smile that made me blush furiously.

Alice clearly noticed, because her smile suddenly widened. Her gaze zeroed on the flower in my hand and she let out a long whistle. "_Niiiiiiice_! I see my cousin's taste is getting better!" She elbowed Anya. "I taught him everything he knows."

"Of course you did," I sniggered.

Anya shook her head. "I'm going to miss you two so much," she said sadly.

I struggled to keep my tears away. I didn't feel like going through the entire makeup process again so close to show time. "Ah, please. You'll hardly have time to miss us at all." Anya was going to start her first steps in teaching. Since she was fresh out of school, they assigned her the children's workshop in the New York City Ballet. But having two young cousins, she had amazing chemistry with kids, so I knew she'd do well.

"Are you speaking for yourself, miss I'm-going-to-be-an-important-ballerina-in-London?" Alice asked, rolling her eyes.

"Said the one who's disappearing to Europe for the whole summer," I retorted.

"We're going to swap postcards," Alice decided. She took Anya's hand in hers, and reached for my hand in her other hand. We stood like that for a moment, saying nothing, and still knowing exactly how the others felt.

"Ten minutes to curtain, everyone," a disembodied voice resonated through a speaker set above the door, startling the three of us. The usual pre-show mayhem broke out in the hallways at the announcement. I smiled to myself, feeling my heart flutter. I placed Edward's orchid on the small makeup table next to Alice's pile of cards. Knowing he was out there in that auditorium someplace, waiting for me, was somewhat comforting. Then, with a sadder smile, I left the dressing room and followed my classmates to the stage – for the very last time.

xoxox

"Isabella Swan will perform Odette's Variation from _Swan Lake_."

A single spotlight followed my entrance as I got into position. It was almost impossible to maintain a straight face with the deafening applause. A part of me wanted to try and see if I could spot my parents in the audience, or Edward, but for the time being, I'd have to be satisfied with the fact they were there in the darkness someplace. Then the sound slowly faded, and the orchestra started playing.

And nothing else mattered. My exhaustion was all gone. I wasn't even me anymore. I was her, Odette, the Swan Queen. When I was first cast, I feared I wouldn't be able to do her justice. Odette was a classical role, desired by every ballerina out there. The fact that Madame La Pierre assigned me this variation for the recital meant the world to me. I was terrified of messing it up, especially with my family out there watching. I forced myself to focus, to keep my mind blank from everything except for the dance. I threw myself into the choreography entirely, and it worked. By the time the music began to build up towards the number's finale, I wondered what I'd been so afraid of in the first place.

There was one dreadful moment of complete silence, before the audience exploded into applause, somehow louder than before. I could feel a smile of relief breaking on my face when I took my bow. I could have sworn the 'Bravo' that echoed from someplace in the back came from my dad. The one that followed, accompanied by a wolf whistle, sounded distinctively like Emmett. I looked in the direction of the voices, but the spotlight was right in my face. I squinted, and gave up my search. He was there. That was all I needed to know.

xoxox

It had always been amazing to me how something we'd been working so long to put together lasted such a short time. The performance flew by. One moment we were doing the opening number, and before I knew it, a furious whisper backstage ordered us to get in position for the closing number. Alice was standing right in front of me, and at the sound of this order, she turned to give me a brilliant smile. I clutched her hand tightly in mine. We made it. I felt so many things at once; I'd never known it was possible. I was happy and sad and relieved and absolutely heartbroken. This was it. Emotion swelled within me, unbelievably intense. No one had prepared me for it. I felt like I was going to pass out.

Luckily, though, I didn't. We got a really long standing ovation, and then I could finally spot everyone right in the middle of the auditorium. They were all cheering like crazy, even Edward who was always more reserved in these types of events. I noticed his eyes flying over the people who filled the stage, as if he was looking for us. I waved, but it barely helped. There were too many of us up here.

Alice and I were still holding hands as we hurried backstage with everyone else. I thought I was in a bad shape earlier, but some people were huddled in corners crying. I tried not to linger on them for too long, fearing I'd start to tear up myself. The post-show adrenaline was catching, and pretty soon we were all talking and laughing and yelling over people's heads all at the same time. We helped each other out of costumes and off with makeup. We zipped each other into our clothes and found each other's shoes.

"That's a decent dress, you see," Alice looked me over with approval when Anya zipped the back of my new dress. I chose it with Anya a couple of weeks ago especially for tonight. Emmett and Rosalie were throwing a small party for us at their place, and I secretly thought of it as a goodbye party, since I wasn't going to see my parents for a very long time after this week. I wasn't one for dresses, but I wanted tonight to be special.

"It's because Anya helped me pick it out," I rolled my eyes. Clearly, Alice believed me to be incompetent as far as dress-shopping went. And not without reason, really.

"I don't know how you're going to get by in London. Really, Bella, it's such a shame to send someone like you to one of the most fashionable cities in the world, and to Kensington, no less! Do you realize you'll be living fifteen minutes from Harrods? It's like… putting _me_ in the middle of a computer store and expecting me to know my way." I knew she was only using a computer parallel because of Jasper.

"Gee, thanks Alice. It's nice to know you have so much faith in me."

"I just know you too well, hon," she said, but it didn't sound like a compliment. Then she spun away from the mirror to face us, striking a pose. "_Tada_!"

She looked gorgeous of course, in a new indigo dress. Mine looked like a country frock comparing with her dress. "Perfect. Of course."

"Are you sure you can't come, Anya? It's going to be so much fun."

"No. I can't skip this dinner party, I'm afraid," Anya replied, shaking her head sorrowfully. "But we'll meet for coffee before you leave."

"Sure thing, girlfriend," Alice smiled, stepping forward to give her a hug.

"I call you tomorrow," I promised Anya as we hugged as well.

"Come on, you," Alice tugged at my arm. She stuck Edward's orchid into my hands and stuffed all the cards in her bag. The flowers she got from Jasper blocked her field of vision almost entirely. "Let's not keep my cousin waiting long, shall we?" she said, already towing me out of the dressing room.

The stage door was packed with our classmates and teachers, families and friends, all speaking at the same time. When we stepped out, I was overwhelmed by the enormous crowd. I clutched Edward's flower tighter, scared to lose it in the crowd. I'd never seen anything like it. My eyes flew over the unfamiliar faces, searching. But before I found him, a familiar voice roared, stronger than the others, "Here they are, our girls!"

And suddenly, they were all there, forming a circle around the two of us. "Oh my God, you were stunning!" Rosalie beamed at us, somehow stretching her arms wide enough to hug both of us.

"You looked hot, Munchkin," Emmett grabbed Alice by the waist and twirled her around. She clung to his neck, giggling in surprise when her feet left the ground. When he brought her down, he took my hand and kissed the back of it. "Finally someone to keep me awake during a ballet performance," he grinned at me.

"Gee, thanks Emmett," I chuckled.

There was a loud squeal to my side when Alice all but threw herself at Jasper, laughing and crying and thanking him for the flowers all at the same time. This was when my mom launched herself at me with about the same enthusiasm Alice had just displayed. Charlie lagged behind her. He seemed kind of uncomfortable to be so close to her, but he was making efforts not to let it show. "Oh honey, I'm so proud of you! You were amazing! Wasn't she amazing, Charlie?" she asked, turning to face him. He seemed startled, as if he wasn't expecting to be addressed by her. He quickly snapped out of it though, and smiled at me.

"Yeah. You were great, Bells."

"Thanks, Dad," I untangled myself from Renée's death grip so I could give him a hug. I couldn't help glancing up from over his shoulder. Edward had his arms around Alice, who was babbling faster than the speed of light about something I couldn't make out. It was as if he wanted to give my parents a chance to congratulate me first. He looked up when he let go of Alice, and our eyes met. I slowly pulled away from my dad and walked over to him.

He smiled at me, and when he caught sight of the flower I still held, his smile widened an inch. He took my hand gently. "You looked beautiful," he whispered, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. As always, he didn't have to say much. I buried my face in his chest. He wrapped one arm around me to hold me closer.

"Okay, okay, who's hungry?" Emmett asked, and I suddenly realized I was starving. His question met other enthusiastic responses, and very slowly, we headed away from the stage door, just one of many other noisy groups.

Leaning into Edward's embrace, I looked around me, and tried to file this moment in my memory for later use. Him and my family and those people I loved, in this one perfect moment when another stage of my life had ended. I felt so lucky to have them all there with me tonight, to share this with them. I wished I could keep them with me forever, to take them with me onward to the next stage, but I knew I couldn't. And even so, in a way they _would_ be there in every step of the new way I'd chosen for myself. They'd be in my heart. They would always be there, no matter how far I'd go.

**

* * *

**

A/N: head over to my profile to find a video of Odette's Variation if you're curious about what was Bella dancing to. Hope you're all having a great weekend, everyone. Please keep up those lovely comments, I appreciate every single one of them :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six – Edward**

Two weeks. I couldn't believe it was all the time we had left to spend together. I tried not to let it show, but it was tearing me apart. I kept a brave façade in front of Bella because I thought I owed her as much. I knew she was scared, and stressed from all the arrangements that had to be made, and I didn't want to add guilt onto that already elaborated list. And knowing her, she _would_ find a way to blame herself in everything.

I only allowed my angst to come through while speaking to Alice or Emmett, but even that didn't bring on the relief I'd been hoping for. Alice was nearly impossible to ground; she was too excited over her upcoming trip to Europe. Emmett was surprisingly attentive, but despite his good intentions, he had other things on his mind, like the baby on the way. So mostly I kept it all bottled up. It was harder at home, with Bella's belongings all in suitcases or on their way there. Our apartment felt strangely bare. Those suitcases were an actual proof she was leaving, and still I didn't know how I was going to say goodbye to her, or how I was going to cope with her absence.

It had been crazy couple of weeks, but I thought we'd have a more peaceful time now. Her performance was behind us, my finals were over. It was going to be the first year I wouldn't be spending the entire summer in Forks with my family. It felt kind of strange, actually, like breaking a long-termed tradition, but I wanted to stay in New York until Bella's departure. I also signed up for more shifts at work, thinking I could use the distraction while she was gone. My mother was disappointed to hear it, but she said they might be able to come and visit in New York instead.

I pushed sadness away and tried to focus on the good things ahead. We had a lot of packing to do in the next couple of days. Bella was determined not to leave it all for the very last minute. I had to think of an original way of sneaking her gift into one of those suitcases without her noticing. I didn't want her to discover it until she was there. And there was also my birthday this upcoming Friday, and whatever the hell she was planning. She was exceptionally stubborn about keeping her plans a secret this year, and I wasn't trying too hard to discover what she'd been up to, because keeping me in the dark seemed to make her happy.

As I unlocked the door and stepped into our apartment, I was slightly more cheered up. Bella's bag was on the counter, so I knew she was in. "Bella?" I called, dropping my keys on the counter next to her bag. She didn't answer. I could hear a sound of running water coming from down the hall. She probably didn't hear me. I shrugged and headed towards our room.

I halted in front of the bathroom. The door wasn't shut all the way, which was odd. "Bella?" I knocked lightly on the door; it creaked open. I took an instinctive step back when a cloud of steam spilt into the hallway. What the hell?

I squinted into the room. There was a huddled figure in the bathtub. I didn't wait for the steam to evaporate so I could have a better look. I rushed into the room, heart racing with panic. "Bella?"

She was sitting in the tub with her knees pressed to her chest, shivering violently. The water was running, not strongly enough to swamp the room, but definitely hot enough to hurt her. She didn't seem aware of that. I didn't think she even noticed me kneeling next to her. She rocked herself back and forth, her gaze blank and distant. "Bella, what's wrong?" I didn't wait for her to reply. I closed the tap. The room was oddly silent without the constant babble of the water. The steam was beginning to disperse, but I barely noticed now. "Bella? Can you hear me?" I was afraid to touch her. Whatever was wrong with her, I was terrified to inflict more damage by doing so.

She blinked and her eyes finally met mine. Her gaze was extremely disoriented, but now she recognized me.

"What's wrong?" I whispered again.

"I can't get warm," she murmured, her teeth chattering.

I was on my feet in half a second. I grabbed the biggest towel my eyes spotted and wrapped it over her shoulders. Then I helped her to her feet and out of the tub. The towel was so large it fell to her ankles. I gave her a closer look. The distress in her eyes was clear, despite the incoherence in her stare. She looked as if she'd collapse any second. "Are you feeling sick?" I asked, determined to keep her talking.

"No. Just cold."

I supported her on the way to our room, all the time struggling not to let my panic show. I didn't want to think what could have happened if I got home twenty minutes too late. She was still shivering when I helped her getting dressed. I threw one of my sweatshirts over the one she was already wearing, and slipped a thick pairs of socks on her feet. I threw the covers back and she crawled into bed.

"Better?" I asked, tucking the covers around her.

"Yes. Thank you," she whispered. She tried to smile, but it looked forced. Her eyes looked more alert and sort of frantic, reflecting my own alarm.

I guessed I should have seen this coming. She was working herself into exhaustion, first with the recital, then with travel arrangement. Her body sort of collapsed beneath the pressure. I reached out to caress her hair back from her forehead. My hand froze. "God, Bella, you're burning up." I hoped she didn't hear the quiver in my voice. This was serious. I'd never seen her so ill before.

"I'm okay. I'm better now."

I wasn't sure if she was lying or not because she was still shivering and her cheeks were flushed in an unhealthy way. "I think we need to get to a doctor."

"No. Please, just… stay with me."

I wanted to protest, but she was in such a bad shape I just wanted to be there for her. So I sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. "Okay. Try to close your eyes and rest, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

She closed her eyes and snuggled into the covers. Pretty soon she was asleep, but it didn't look peaceful. Her breathing was heavy and strained. So I sat there and watched her, waiting for my distress to cease, trying very hard not to think.

xoxox

For the next couple of days, she wasn't getting better. She was still feverish, although slightly less so. I knew it was probably best to get her see a doctor, but she was so weak it didn't seem wise to get her out of the apartment when she could barely make it out of bed. I took a day off work, much to my employer's dismay. I made sure she'd have an ongoing supply of tea and chicken soup. I spent nights on an uncomfortable chair by her bedside, watching her troubled sleep with frustration. I didn't know what else I could do for her

On Friday she finally slept the entire night. I only realized it when I slowly woke up and light was streaming into the bedroom. I stretched, feeling every sore muscle in the process. I sat there and watched her. She didn't seem as uneasy, and her cheeks were still pink but not as much. I leaned forward to feel her forehead. It was still warm.

The loud shrill of the phone tore into the silence and sent my heart flying. I raced to the living room to pick it up before the sound would wake Bella. "Hello," I breathed.

"Finally, you're alive!"

"Emmett," I muttered.

"Dude, where have you _been_? I'm trying to reach you on your cell since last night!"

"My cell phone is turned off," I yawned.

"_Oh_." There was this naughty undertone to the sound. "I'm not… interrupting anything, I hope."

"Not at all," I replied dryly. "Bella is sick."

"What's wrong with her?"

"It's mostly exhaustion, I think. She's a little feverish."

"Do you need help there, man? I can come over."

"I might, actually, I have to go to work this afternoon – "

"Since when are you working on Fridays?"

"I took yesterday off, so I'm covering for the guy who covered for me yesterday. Anyway, she's in a pretty bad shape, and I don't want to leave her."

"Tell me when and I'm there."

"Around four," I said. Sleep deprivation was finally getting to me. I felt drained. "Thanks, Emmett."

"No problem, dude. Does that mean your birthday celebrations are cancelled?"

I didn't even think about that. "No, she might be okay in a few days."

There was a long pause before Emmett asked, very slowly, "Edward, do you know what day it is?"

"Umm, Friday?" For a moment, I was kind of unsure. I'd lost all sense of time since Bella got sick. Once he asked it, I couldn't even remember how many nights I'd been spending on that chair by her bedside.

"Yes, it's Friday, but it's also your _birthday_, which is why I called in the first place."

"Oh. Well, yes then, I guess celebrations have been cancelled." I glanced at the hallway. "I'd better go back and make sure she's okay."

"Alright. I'll be there at four, don't worry. Maybe she's not getting better because she keeps seeing the same face every time she wakes up."

"Gee, thanks Emmett," I sniggered.

"Hang on in there, little bro. I'll see you later."

After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I went to check on Bella. She was awake, leaning against a pile of pillows, looking starkly pale because of the brown sweatshirt she was wearing. She stared at nothing ahead, but her eyes found mine when I walked back into the room. Her face lit up. "Hi." Her voice was raspy, half from sleep, half from illness. She held her arm out, a wordless plea I'd come to know well in a span of a few days. I came to sit next to her and laced my fingers with hers.

"How are you feeling?"

"I slept better. I'm still so tired, though."

"It's because you're weak. You need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"I know. But you've had nothing but soup for three days. You need to have some real food." I brushed a finger over her cheek. "I'll have to go to work today, but Emmett will come to keep you company."

"He doesn't have to do that. I'll be fine."

"I don't want you to stay here alone."

She nodded sort of reluctantly. Then she sighed. "I feel awful."

She didn't seem distressed, just sad. It didn't relieve my apprehension though. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, I didn't mean that. It's your birthday, and I totally ruined it."

"Don't be silly, Bella. I don't care about that."

"I'll make it up to you," she insisted.

"Just focus on getting better, please? I don't care about anything else right now."

A grin curled on her lips. "You mean you're not the least curious about what your surprise was?"

"I am," I admitted. It wasn't a top priority to say the least, but I couldn't help wondering about that now that she brought it up.

"The Coney Island Amusement Park," she said, smiling sheepishly and kind of sadly. Her cheeks were pink, and it finally didn't seem like a result of her fever. "Do you think it's dumb?"

"No, I think it's kind of cute," I smiled, and leaned forward to kiss her nose. "I'm going to get you some breakfast. If you get up…"

"… Count to ten before I do. I remember," she said, rolling her eyes a little. She nearly fainted the other day when she got out of bed too quickly. It was one of the reasons I wanted Emmett around later on.

I got her toast with butter and honey, and watched her carefully as she ate. Since she was more responsive this morning, she was more easily bored. She wanted to get on with the packing, having missed three days already, but I didn't want her to strain herself. We compromised – I packed whatever she ordered me to. We stopped every now and again when more people called to wish me happy birthday. I could see her twitch with guilt with every text or call.

Even this task of virtual packing wore her out. A few hours later, she went back to sleep. I watched her for a moment until I was sure she was asleep. Then I tidied things up a bit before I started getting ready for work. Emmett arrived just when I was putting my shoes on. He smacked my back and shoved a nicely wrapped gift into my hands. "That's from Rose and me," he said. "It's a book. I think. Rose picked it out."

"Thanks, Emmett."

"Where's my patient?"

"She's asleep."

"How is she?"

"A little better."

"Don't worry. She's in good hands. And I'm going to make her mom's tomato soup, so she'll be fine in no time," he said, patting his backpack, where I assumed his supplies were. I felt sort of lame I hadn't come up with that idea myself. My mother's tomato soup was known for its healing powers. Emmett and Bella's interaction was something that had never ceased to amaze me. He could be a huge jerk at times, but he loved her like a sister. "Go," he said, all but pushing me towards the door. "Get some fresh air."

"If anything – "

"I know, I'll call, get out of here, loser."

xoxox

Olga was sour-faced when I got to work, but she was nice enough to ask how Bella was doing. Work dragged. I knew Bella was well taken care of, but I couldn't stop myself from stressing. The moment she got her strength back, I was going to take her to see a doctor. I hoped her fever wouldn't linger. There was a lot to do to prepare for her departure. There was so much I wanted to do before I lost her.

Emmett didn't text me, so I assumed everything was okay at home. I stopped at the convenient store to get some groceries on the way home. I made sure to pick Bella's favorite chocolate, too. After Emmett's tomato soup trick, I felt this ridiculous need to get even. When I walked in, I could hear Emmett speaking, and Bella's soft laugh that followed. I dropped the bags in the kitchen and hurried down the hall.

She looked up and smiled. She was wearing a different sweatshirt now, and her hair was tied into a braid that fell on her shoulder. Emmett's eyes followed hers and turned over his shoulder to grin at me.

"How are you feeling?" I walked over to her and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. I slipped my head to feel her forehead. "Still warm."

"Yeah, man, you need to get her to see a doctor."

"I will," I said, not taking my eyes off her. "Did you eat?"

"A little," she nodded.

"This soup is The Bomb," Emmett declared, which gained him another soft laugh. "Right, I think I'll go. I've got a PTA coming up next week and I need to prepare some stuff." I moved aside as he stepped forward to kiss her forehead. "Get well soon, honey."

"Thanks again, Emmett," I told him as I walked him to the door.

He shook his head in dismissal. "Don't mention it. Call me if you need anything. I think she just needs to get some rest."

When he left, I ventured into the kitchen. The pot of soup was still on the stove, still warm. I sniffed it. It smelt like home. I was constantly amazed by my older brother, by how good he was in all this. I guessed everyone could become a good cook under Rosalie's reign. I grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and filled it halfway. I grabbed a spoon and the chocolate I got Bella, and then made my way down the hall again, determined to feed it to her. I just wanted her to get her strength back.

xoxox

It was as if her immune system was getting back at her for straining herself so much. The fever finally ceased after a few days, but it was followed by a nasty cold. I could see it made her upset and kind of frustrated. This was not how she'd planned her last days in New York to be.

People who heard she was sick came and went. Alice came to say goodbye before heading off to Europe, a few days before Bella's designated departure date. Anya stopped by a few times. Mostly it was just us, though, and even though she wasn't well, it was kind of nice to be enclosed there, just me and her. A few days before her departure, I started taking her out for short periods of time. I didn't want the first time she'd go outside to be when we left for the airport. After so much time she stayed indoors, I didn't want her to be overwhelmed. So we went on short walks, or sat in the park. Being in the sun was actually good for her. Slowly she was gaining her strength back.

"I can't believe I'm going to London sick," she grumbled, sitting cross-legged in the middle of our bed on her last night home. "How perfectly fitting."

I chuckled humorlessly. "Do you have all your medications? And extra tissues?"

"In my handbag."

"Okay," I got up and sat on the bed next to her. "Bed time for you," I said softly, and held the blankets so she could tuck her feet in. She kept her gaze on mine as she did. I felt my heart breaking. This was not how I'd planned my last night with her. Pushing my resentment away, I got up and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

"No," she whispered before my lips touched her skin. I looked down at her questionably. I didn't like what I found in her eyes. I almost guessed what she was going to say. "Stay with me tonight."

"I'll be right here," I promised, nodding towards my usual chair. I hardly felt the sore muscles anymore – I'd rather spend nights on an uncomfortable seat next to her than in the spare room down the hall.

"No," she said again, and the pink in her cheeks was familiar now. "That's not what I meant."

I knew exactly what she meant. It took everything I had to shake my head. "I don't think it's a good idea," I said softly. Turning her down was unbearable, but what other choice I had?

"Please?" she whispered, her fingers gripping my tee shirt as she sat up. She was kneeling in front of me now. Her gaze was earnest on mine. Her eyes were glistening with tears. "I already feel like I ruined everything with being sick," her voice trembled as she pressed her lips to my neck. I closed my eyes as she spread feather soft kisses on my throat, drifting up to my chin, my jaw, beneath my ear. "I hate to think this will be my last memory of you – us." Her arms slid up my chest and snaked around my neck as she pulled herself closer. She locked her gaze with mine again. "Edward, please?"

I couldn't refuse her. I didn't want to. But she was still ill and weak and she had a long day ahead of her tomorrow. The most sensible thing would be turning her down and make sure she got proper rest.

Her fingers drifted to the hair at the back of my neck. She didn't plead with me again. She didn't say anything else. She leaned forward ever so slightly and pressed her lips to mine once, twice, a third time, all the while keeping her gaze intent on mine.

"Bella…" Her name slipped from my lips, full of yearning.

I felt her lips curl in a smile when she pressed them to mine a fourth time. "I'm here," she murmured, brushing her lips against mine again. This time when she tried to pull away, I didn't let her. I grabbed her waist for better balance as our lips collided against one another again and again. She moaned softly into my mouth. The sound went through me. I held her tighter. Her breathing was erratic and for a hint of a second guilt overtook me, but it was too late to pull back. I lowered us slowly to the bed and let her have her way.

xoxox

The next morning, I woke up in a haze. I wasn't used to sleeping in my own bed. Bella was cuddled close to my chest, looking snug and warm in the sweatshirt I'd insisted she'd put back on at some point of the night. She laughed at me, saying I sure knew how to kill the mood, but did as I asked anyway. I lay there and watched the patterns the sunbeams made on her sleeping face. I threaded my fingers in her hair and she pressed herself closer. She seemed healthier than she had in days.

She stirred, and her eyes fluttered open. It took her a moment before she raised her gaze to mine. A careful smile curled on the corners of her lips. There was something very tender in her eyes. Then, in a moment, it was gone. "I don't want to go," she whispered. The quiver in her voice was heart-wrenching.

"I don't want to let you go." She'd never know how painfully true this statement was.

"Then don't."

"You don't really mean that, Bella," I laughed softly, brushing a finger along her cheek. "Besides, it's kind of too late to back away now."

"I'm going to miss you so much." Her voice broke. Then she chuckled and wiped a tear angrily. "God, I promised myself I wouldn't do this. Slap me the next time I get emotional, please."

I laughed, but the sound came all wrong. There was something I wanted to ask her, but I didn't know how she'd react. I'd already got her a parting gift, and snuck it into one of her suitcases a few days ago, but it didn't feel like enough. Besides, that other thing I wanted her to have was really the only thing I truly wanted to give her.

"No, don't go," she pleaded when I turned away from her for a moment.

"I'm not going anywhere," I assured her. "I just want to get something."

She pursed her lips and let me go. She scooted closer to the headboard of the bed, leaned against it and pressed her knees to her chest.

I opened the small drawer of the nightstand on my side of the bed. I found the small box easily. It was at the same place I'd left it when I put it back after the proposal of doom, like I used to refer to it. Bella clearly realized what it was, because her eyes suddenly widened when I turned to face her again with the box clenched in my palm.

"I know you said you wanted to find your way first," I said before she could protest. "I'm not asking you to set a date or make me any guarantees. Just take it with you, please?" My fingers were trembling when I removed the ring from its velvet stand in the middle of the box. I took Bella's hand, placed the ring in her palm and gently closed her fingers on it. The ring lay there in her fist for a moment. I gave her a pleading look.

"I think…" she started slowly, "I want you to keep it for me," she finished, gently repeating my actions as she took my hand. "So you'll know I'm coming back." She wrapped her own fingers around my fist and raised her eyes to mine. "Please don't be mad at me."

"I'll never be mad at you," I promised her as I slowly unclenched my hand. I could understand her request, sort of, but I couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. But if this was her way to guarantee I'd keep my promise and wait for her, I'd take it. But there was something else. I grinned carefully, hoping she wouldn't smack me. "I don't want to push my luck, but do you want to see it, at least? Since you didn't get a chance to, the first time?"

Her smile was tender. "Sure."

I felt somewhat relieved that she didn't freak out. Slowly, I let the ring fall into her hand again. She didn't say anything for a long time, but I could sort of figure out she liked it by her expression. "If you hate it, we can pick out a different one," I teased her.

"Don't you dare changing it," she said, her eyes still set on the ring. Her voice was kind of dazed.

I chuckled. "You're such a girl, after all. Dazzled by diamonds and gemstones."

I thought it was 'diamonds' that made her tear her eyes away from the ring and look up. "You didn't spend a lot of money, did you? Please lie to me if you did." The panic in her tone was endearing.

"Let's just say I put the rest of my grandfather's money to good use," I said, leaning forward to kiss her nose. "So you like it, then?"

"It's beautiful," she said, smiling coyly. "I love it. So take a good care of it until I'm back."

"If you promise to take care of _you_."

"I will," she said, and put the ring back in my hand. She wrapped her fingers around my fist again, and we just sat there silently with our hands joined.

"Are you hungry?" I asked after a while, hating to break the silence. "How does breakfast in bed sound?"

She thought for a moment, and then grinned. "Have I ever taught you how to make waffles?"

I chuckled and let her drag me out of bed. Looked like it was time for our last cooking lesson.

xoxox

The airport was its usual chaos. Bella's luggage consisted of three giant suitcases (and a handbag) which we now wheeled on a trolley toward the airline counter. For a moment, I feared she wouldn't be able to pick it all up when she got there.

I waited until she checked in, and watched her suitcases travel along the conveyor belt until they disappeared on their way to the plane. When she joined me, carrying only her handbag, I reached for her hand. We walked in silence to the farthest point I could go with her. I took her other hand as we stood facing each other.

"This is it, huh?" she whispered.

"This is it," I nodded, squeezing her hand gently. "You've got everything? Coat, passport, boarding pass?"

"It's all here," she replied.

"Call me as soon as you can, just so I know you're okay."

"Of course."

I knew this quiet voice, this guarded expression. She was struggling not to fall apart. "Come here," I said, opening my arms. As if that was all she needed, she walked into my embrace and laid her head against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and put my chin on the top of her head. I sensed her sigh. "It's okay," I murmured, gently rocking her. "It's going to be okay. Go, have a great time, and I'll be here waiting for you."

She raised her eyes to mine. They were glistening with tears. I shook my head, doing all in my power to keep my own tears hidden from her. "Don't. We'll be fine. I promise." I kissed her forehead and poked her gently. "Now go. Get yourself some M&Ms or something when you get inside."

She chuckled, but it sounded wrong. I knew my feign enthusiasm didn't convince her. We leaned towards one another at exactly the same moment. Her fingers fluttered on my cheeks as we kissed for a long moment, as if she was memorizing my face. I closed my eyes and tried to remember everything about her kiss, her touch and scent and sense. Maybe if I could remember it, it would hurt less later.

"I love you," she whispered, slowly pulling away.

"I love you," I echoed, pressing my forehead against hers.

We stayed like that for a moment. She was the first to pull back, but I could sense her reluctance. She held my gaze for a long moment. I nodded, a wordless reassurance.

I stood there watching her as she nodded to the guard in uniform who glanced at her boarding pass. She turned to look back as she went through. I didn't budge even when she was completely out of my sight. Then, after a long moment of standing there, I released a shaky breath, turned in the opposite direction from the one she'd just taken, and slowly exited the terminal, leaving my heart behind.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N 1: this is probably the place to say that London is my personal Emerald City. I've been there five times in six years and I love this city to death. However, I've never been to the area where Bella is going to spend most of her stay at, and so I'm eternally grateful for BlondeBubble who helped me sort out everything, geography-wise, assisted in house-hunting for Bella and took pictures of the London Coliseum (the official venue of the English National Ballet) for me when she happened to be there. I tried to be as accurate as I can because it was important for me to stay realistic. I'm not a professional dancer and I don't know much about ballet companies. I pulled information about the English National Ballet out of their official website, and like in the first story, I twisted facts a lot for the sake of the story. Bear that in mind as you read from now on, in case you do know about ballet more than I do and you find inconsistencies throughout the story. **

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Chapter Seven – Bella

I wasn't sure at which point of the way sleep had found me. When I woke up, I was hurt all over. My head was pounding and I was exhausted, but whether from crying or illness I wasn't sure. Around me, everyone seemed to be asleep. I just stared at the dark nothingness out of the small window. I felt drained, empty, and lonely like I hadn't felt in years. It was too late to turn back now. I'd made my choice. But now I wasn't sure this was what I wanted. The constant humming of the engine was soothing, like the strangest lullaby. Pretty soon I was dozing off again.

I woke up next with a surprising burst of energy, as if it had just dawned on me where I was and where I was headed. I could see beyond my misery, and for the first time in weeks I felt a smile curling on my lips. Optimism washed through me, strange and unfamiliar after long weeks of constant gloom. This was right. I could do this.

My nose was running again, reminding me of my grim reality. Groaning softly, I bent forward and tried to feel for my handbag, stashed beneath my seat. Before I knew it, a yellow Kleenex was shoved under my nose. I looked up, a little startled. The elderly woman who was sitting next to me was smiling kindly at me.

"I always get sick before going abroad," she said.

She had a thick, singsongy British accent, so I assumed she was coming back from a trip or whatnot. "Thanks," I murmured, and took the tissue from her hand.

"Is this your first time in England?"

"Umm, yes."

"Are you visiting someone? Going on a trip?"

"No. I'm a dancer. I got a new job in London." Even now, it sounded unbelievable.

"How lovely! What kind of dance do you do?"

"Ballet."

She smiled knowingly. "My granddaughter wants to be a ballerina now," she said, shaking her head.

Above our heads, the pilot announced the upcoming landing. My body went rigid with sudden fear, shoving any hint of optimism aside. The woman smiled at me encouragingly, as if my distress was visible. Outside, dawn was breaking. My mind was a mess. I thought of so many things at once; it was kind of disorienting. More than anything, I hoped I wouldn't be too jet lagged. My first meeting with the company was the day after tomorrow, and while I was sure they wouldn't ask me to join rehearsals right away, I wanted to make a good impression at least. Snoozing wouldn't help in the slightest.

I barely took notice of the flight attendant as she smiled at me and wished me a good day as I walked passed her on my way out. The woman who was sitting next to me waved goodbye after I declined her offer to give me a ride uptown. I clung to my bag as I followed the crowd and the yellow signs that were everywhere, making getting lost impossible. It was quiet in this early hour, as if everyone was too exhausted to make conversations. It was crowded, but organized, so the long queues didn't bother me. I tried to focus on my breathing as I waited to get my passport signed. I answered the questions a bored-looking immigration officer directed at me, struggling to keep up with her unfamiliar accent. Then, finally, I'd been waved away from there, to reclaim my luggage.

I remembered Edward's panic about my suitcases being too massive, and when I spotted them on the conveyor belt, I kind of feared he had a point. A cute guy with a five o'clock shadow who had obviously noticed my distress helped me load my suitcases on a metal trolley. He kind of reminded me of Edward, his brownish hair a mess, his plaid shirt all wrinkled and its buttons mismatched. He only had one suitcase with him, and a guitar case. He suggested wheeling my trolley outside for me, but I refused. I could handle that, I thought.

On the way out of there, I felt strangely stronger, filled with sudden energy. Following the crowd again seemed sensible, and suddenly I was out in a bigger room, where there more yellow signs, but more people as well. The hum of simultaneous conversations was exceptionally loud. The arrivals' hall was packed, a surprising fact in this ridiculously early hour of the morning. I looked around frantically. I knew for sure someone would be waiting for me, but what if whoever it was, they got stuck on traffic? What if they thought I was coming this afternoon?

And then, standing between a group of Japanese businessmen in dark suits and an Indian family with four small kids, there was a woman holding up a sign with my name on it. She was slightly taller than me, and thin. She stood out because of her stunning royal blue light coat. I was sure Alice would approve of it. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes were dark as well, searching the crowd. I kicked my distress to the farthest corner of my mind, sucked in a huge breath, and began to push my trolley towards her.

"Isabella Swan?" she asked, lowering her sign, as I stopped in front of her. Her eyes lit up when I nodded.

"Just Bella," I corrected her breathlessly.

"It's so nice to meet you, Bella," she said, shaking my hand. "Welcome to London. I'm Cecilia Olsen. I'm in charge for the company's newcomers, so if you run into any sort of a problem, I'm the person to turn to."

Her accent was thick, and less intelligible than that of the woman on the plane, or even the officer who got my passport signed. Or maybe I was getting more tired. I was sure she wasn't speaking so fast, and still I had trouble to keep up with her.

She smiled, as if she noticed. "You'll get used to the accents, my dear. It only sounds like a foreign language in the first couple of weeks. And then, who knows? You might come home with traces of it!" Her forehead cringed as she observed me closely. "Are you alright?"

"A little sick," I admitted, smiling sheepishly. "It's nothing."

"Well, let's get you settled in so you could get some rest. Let me help you with that."

She pushed the trolley forward as if it weighed nothing. I caught sight of the guy who helped me with my luggage. He smiled and waved at me on his way out. I returned his smile and followed Cecilia in the opposite direction.

"I brought my car because I thought that since it's your first time here, you might want to see where we're going. Mostly, people just use the Tube," she said, nodding towards an entry we'd walked passed. People were coming and going through there by the dozen. "You'll be using it a lot while living in the city. It shouldn't be difficult for you to figure out. New York's underground system is far more complicated. This way, dear."

She kept talking as we made our way to the parking lot. Although it was July, the morning was dreary and rather grey. The chill hit me full force despite the fact I'd anticipated it. In my half delusional state of mind, it seemed colder to me than it actually was. I snuggled into my coat. We stopped next to a black Renault, one of many, and I wondered how she could tell her own car apart. I instinctively reached for the door on the right when I realized my mistake and dropped my hand, blushing.

"You'll have to be very careful about crossing the roads for the first couple of weeks," Cecilia said, shaking her head dismissively as I circled the car and opened the right door." There's a lot to get used to. I'm sure it's overwhelming after this long flight, but I'm certain you'll be catching up on everything in no time."

Somehow my suitcases fit into the tiny trunk of the car. I sank into the seat gratefully, and stretched my legs as far as they could go. Although I slept through most of the flight, I was still so tired. I knew my eyes would close if let them, but I was determined to stay awake and catch everything on our way to central London. I wasn't going to miss a beat. I could crash later, when we got home – wherever that was right now.

Soon we were on our way, and my gloom was slowly replaced by childish curiosity as I watched the unfamiliar landscape unfold. My nose was all but stuck to the window when Cecilia pointed out landmarks along the way – schools and neighborhoods filled with what seemed to me like life-sized dollhouses, green lawns and industrial buildings. It was warm in the car, but it looked chilly outside. The pavements were wet as if it had rained, although it was July.

I could tell when we were nearing central London when traffic became heavier. It was different than traffic jams in New York City, quieter, as much as a traffic jam could be quiet. It was about nine in the morning, and much earlier than that my time, but I wasn't feeling tired yet. My heart began to beat faster than usual when it dawned on me this was it. It was really happening. I was really here.

I stared at everything wide-eyed, feeling like an ignorant country girl instead of someone who had spent the last four years in one of the biggest cities in the world. It should have prepared me to the new sights here, but it hardly had. New York was so different. So much more… alive, in a way, I guessed. There was this genuine sense of antiquity as we drove through the curling street on the wrong side of the road (as far as I was concerned, at least). There were no skyscrapers or giant billboards or anything flashy of the sort; just rows and rows of ancient buildings that had been there for centuries. They made me feel so small in comparison, a sensation that New York City had often enhanced in me, but in a different way entirely. I felt like Dorothy when she first set foot in Munchkinland. I wanted to do it all now. I didn't care exhaustion was beginning to sip in. I wanted to drop my stuff someplace and explore this amazing place. It wasn't raining yet, but the clouds hung so low in the sky that I feared they would force me indoors.

"The weather is something to get used to, I'm afraid."

Cecilia's voice pulled me back into reality. The heating in the car was soothing. It looked freezing outside. I could see people's breaths coming in small clouds in front of them whenever we stopped in front of a crosswalk. I shook my head at her remark. "I sort of know what to expect. It rains about three hundred and sixty days a year where my dad lives."

She cast a side glance at me, looking somewhat surprised. "You're not originally from New York?"

It felt like that sometimes. "I'm from a town near Seattle. It rains there a _lot_." At this point, Phoenix looked like a far away dream.

"Then at least you came well-equipped for the weather," she laughed softly. "According to the weather report, it should get better tomorrow. We do get proper summer days, don't worry," she assured me, and then nodded at another row of buildings ahead. "Here's Markova House, the company's venue. Rehearsals take place here, and there are studios where you can work privately in. Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens are right around the corner from us, as you can see," she pointed at an enormous park ahead. This city seemed to be full of them, from the little I could see so far.

A little while later, the busy streets made way to a more suburban setting. Cecilia was just telling me about this area of London called Kensington. Apparently it was considered extremely wealthy. Doreen had never mentioned that when she told me about her friend's apartment. I guessed she didn't think much of it, living in a fancy house herself. I looked outside with certain apprehension. The houses and small gardens looked perfectly immaculate, but most of all expensive, something I could never afford on my own. Fear came crawling back in. Could I truly house-sit this woman's apartment? What if I broke anything? I'd had to work my entire life to pay her back.

"This is it. De Vere Gardens," Cecilia announced, nodding forward as we drove along the park. "We need number two, right?"

"Umm, I think so," I said, reaching for the front pocket of my handbag to check on my note. It _was_ number two, and I told Cecilia as much.

"It's fortunate you could get this place. The company provides newcomers with boarding houses and hostels at the beginning of their stay, but having a place to yourself has its benefits. It's not far from the venue, either."

The street looked like it was ripped out of a Hugh Grant film: two neat rows of three-story houses on both sides of the street. They all looked the same, Victorian dollhouses with small front gardens.

"Some of those, like the one you'll be staying at, have been converted into flats," Cecilia explained as she killed the engine in front of number two.

I stepped out of the car and breathed the crisp air. I looked up at the third floor, where Doreen's friend lived. I was supposed to get the keys from her neighbor Caitlin, and I hoped she was home like she was supposed to be. I sent another pang of anxiety away and looked around. I wasn't sure I remembered the direction we'd driven through, but I was sure the venue was about ten minutes' walk from there, although I was too groggy to remember in which direction. The park was a walking distance from the building.

Cecilia's gaze followed mine. "That's Kensington Gardens," she explained as I joined her on the sidewalk. Then she checked her watch, and worry settled in her expression. "Ivan is running late. I asked one of the boys to help us with the luggage – I had a feeling we'd need it. Bless him, I hope he didn't oversleep – "

Her voice trailed off when a tall, lanky guy appeared from around the corner. He was dressed all in black except for a thick scarf with pink, orange, green and purple stripes. He had on square-framed glasses with a blue rim. Green headphones were plugged into his ears. When he noticed Cecilia, he unplugged them and stopped his iPod before he stuffed it in his backpack.

"Cecilia, darling," he smiled as he kissed her on both cheeks. "So sorry I'm late, I've never been in this part of the neighborhood before, I got lost! Then I realized I walked two blocks too far and had to walk back! I blame it all on the music, I got distracted!" His fast speech was suddenly cut off when his eyes wandered from her to me. "Are you the new addition?"

"Ivan Cornacovich, this is Bella Swan," Cecilia said, smiling at me as she used my previous correction. I couldn't help but wonder how a guy with such an obvious British accent got such a Russian name. His last name was trickier than Anya's, and hers was hard to beat.

"Pleasure to meet you," he took my hand, his smile getting impossibly wider. "It's been absolutely ages since we got a fresh face in the company. One that was worth keeping, anyway! Did you really go to Juilliard?"

"I just graduated a couple of weeks ago."

He squealed. "_Ah_! New York City is the city of my _dreams_! You and I are going to be great friends, doll."

"Luggage first, bonding later. The girl is dead on her feet," Cecilia chided him.

I glanced at him dubiously. I was pretty sure there wasn't even an elevator in this seemingly ancient building. Surely she didn't expect him to carry all of it upstairs by himself...? "Actually, I think I can handle it."

As if he read the uncertainty in my expression, he snorted. "_Please_. I lift heavier dancers than this. You should sit aside and let me do the job I've come here to do. You look like you could use a hot cup of tea and a bed."

"That sounds perfect, actually," I admitted.

"Why don't you take care of that, Cecilia, love? You know how I like my tea."

"Thanks, Ivan." She gave him the car keys, and led me inside.

Caitlin, who was supposed to give me the keys, was home, despite my previous concerns, and joined us upstairs to explain to me where everything was in the apartment. Doreen's friend had left me a note on the small table by the door, welcoming me and wishing me a nice stay. It was touching, in an odd kind of way. _She_ was doing _me_ a favor, and not so much the other way around. She didn't have to do that. Now I was all the more afraid I'd do some un-repairable damage to her apartment.

The apartment was gorgeous, like nothing I'd seen before. The furniture was mostly old with modern touches here and there. I could see more of the park from the bedroom windows. Caitlin and Cecilia explained to me how the water and heating systems worked, and how to open and shut the windows. I felt like an alien with my American cluelessness. I hoped I could handle it all by myself in a few days. It would be too embarrassing to ask for their help again after they'd explained everything so patiently. Ivan came up and down the stairs, each time carrying a suitcase. Caitlin refused Cecilia's invitation for tea, told me to contact her if I ever needed anything, and left to get ready for work.

I followed Cecilia to the kitchen and watched her as she placed a kettle on the stove and searched the cupboards for cups and tea. I took a seat next to the small table by the window. I tried not to think about essentials, like where I was going to get food or where the closest Tube was. I was too tired to be practical.

"Ivan has been with us for nearly four years," Cecilia said after Ivan made it downstairs for his final run. "He's just been promoted to first soloist, which is always a great honor. He's such a talented dancer and a wonderful person. You'll learn a lot from him. Oh, but be careful to keep your men away from him. He can get competitive!"

Her statement caught me off-guard. It's true that in Juilliard teachers were involved in students' lives, relationships and romances included, but never like this. It sounded like such an intimate fact for her to know, considering she was practically his boss. But they did look like close friends rather than an employer and employee. Maybe it was because the company wasn't really a school. Maybe school rules didn't apply here. Her words brought it all back; our last moment in the airport, our last kiss, the overwhelming sense of loss that followed…

"That wouldn't be a problem," I said slowly, struggling to keep my voice normal. I was determined not to cry in front of her.

"Trust me, dear, I've been with this company for quite some time. I've seen some crazy things," she said knowingly.

"No, I mean… I doubt Ivan can just drop everything and go to New York, so it's all good," I said quietly, lowering my gaze. I couldn't believe how much pain this vague statement inflicted.

It must have been obvious, because I heard her gasp. I looked up at the sound. She looked horrified with herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry." She walked over to me and placed a hand on mine. She smiled encouragingly. "If it's any comfort, in a few days you'll be so busy, you'll hardly have time to miss him."

I hoped she was right. I meant to thank her, but that was when the front door opened and Ivan wheeled in the last suitcase.

We had tea, and I answered some questions they still had. They answered some of mine. It was nearly eleven when they left, and Cecilia said she'd call later to check up on me. I walked them to the door and slowly shut it behind them. Then I turned to face my new home. Despite my weariness, and the pain that hadn't quite sunk in yet, I could feel a smile curling on my lips, widening as I walked from room to room in dazed wonderment. It couldn't be happening to me. Someone was going to wake me up soon. This amazing apartment wasn't really mine for the year.

I knew I'd have to watch myself as far as phone calls went, because I was sure it was going to be ridiculously expensive. I still wasn't sure how my cell phone worked here, and I was too tired to try and figure it out now, so I called from Doreen's friend's phone. There was no answer in my mom's house, so I left her a message, feeling kind of baffled. I really wanted to talk to her. I couldn't call Charlie because he was eight hours back and probably still sleeping. I'd have to remember to give him a call in a few hours. Then, with shaky fingers, I dialed the number in our New York apartment. I sank into the sofa and tucked my feet beneath me as I waited for him to pick up. He didn't have to work until later today so I knew there was a good chance I'd wake him, but I didn't care. I needed to hear his voice.

"Bella?"

I giggled. The sound was strange, mixed with a sob I could feel halfway up my throat. "How did you know?"

"Because it's barely six A.M," he grunted softly, and I heard a rustle of sheets. He must have kept the phone near him in bed. I smiled sadly as I thought of it placed on the pillow that until not too long ago had been mine. "What's up? Are you there? Are you safe? Did you meet whoever was supposed to get you?"

Always so anxious. "I'm here. I'm in Doreen's friend's apartment and it's beautiful. There's a park right around the corner from here." I laughed softly. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"No, I wasn't really sleeping," he yawned. "I was waiting for you to call."

"Well, I'm fine. Don't worry. Go back to sleep."

"Okay," he yawned again, and I knew there was a good chance he wouldn't remember this conversation when he was really awake in a few hours. "Take care. I love you."

"I love you too," I whispered, and hung up before he could hear me weeping.

I kicked my shoes off and padded on the carpeted floor down the hall. I stood in the doorway of the bedroom for a moment. It didn't have enough room for all my three suitcases, so Ivan left the last one in the living room. The two others occupied most of the space on the bedroom floor. I had to practically hop over them to get to the bed. The mattress was soft, and the bedspread was cold against my cheek. I curled in the middle of it, not even bothering to change. Only for a few minutes, I told myself. And then darkness took over.

xoxox

I slept through most of the next day, which was a huge disappointment to me. I really wanted to get up and at least walk around the building, but I thought I'd better just rest. I wasn't completely well yet, and combined with jet lag, I didn't want to push my luck. In the afternoon of the next day I did a little walk and found the supermarket Cecilia and Ivan had pointed out to me. I familiarized myself with the unfamiliar labels and bought a few stuff so I wouldn't feel completely detached.

I spent the evening in front of the television, watching a random program on BBC and eating tomato soup from a mug. It didn't come close to Esme's soup, but it was something. It was kind of strange to be there alone. I'd never lived on my own before, and the silence was a bit unnerving. I fell asleep on the sofa. I was so used to Edward carrying me back to bed that waking up where I'd fallen asleep with the TV still working was a little disorienting.

However, the moment I realized my plans for today, stupefaction was all gone. I felt like a kid on the first day of school. For the first time in days, I felt well. It was as if my illness dissipated altogether. Cecilia called the other evening to tell me she would come to pick me up, which was fortunate because I really wasn't sure I knew my way to the company's venue.

Most of my stuff was still in the suitcases. I decided to wait for the weekend to unpack. I chose from the limited assortment I'd had. The sky was blue today, but it still looked chilly, so I added a scarf to my light jacket and tee shirt. I was about to wrap it around my neck when a knock came at the door. I hurried to get it, thinking it would be Cecilia, but it wasn't her on my threshold.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Ivan chirped, flashing me a brilliant smile. "Are you all set?"

He wasn't wearing his glasses today, which made me notice his eyes. They were a gorgeous shade of blue. I blinked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I told Cecilia I would walk you to the House," he explained, and shoved something small and purple in my hands. I looked down. It was a chocolate bar. I'd seen it in the supermarket the other day. "Cadbury. Quite addictive, if I do say so myself. It's time you get acquainted with the local delicacies, pronto!"

"Thanks," I laughed softly. I kind of liked this guy already. And if it _was_ like the first day in school, then I was grateful to get there with someone who was clearly in the know. Cecilia was lovely, but going in there with her would label me as The New Girl, The American, The New Addition. None of these titles appealed to me. They would all give me a spotlight I didn't wish to have. More than anything, they scared the hell out of me.

Ivan was taller than Edward, which meant his steps were larger than mine. He tried to match his steps to mine at first, but soon I had to jog to keep up with him. I didn't mind it. It was so cold and I was grateful for the opportunity to keep warm. He was wearing a Russian hat with ear flaps; they moved about with each step he took. The hat was beige, and it made his glassy blue eyes stand out even more. He asked me tons of questions about Juilliard and New York, and laughed at me when I asked him to speak more slowly, but not in a way that offended me. Pretty soon I found myself giggling at comments he'd made. It was impossible not to.

I tried to memorize the way we were walking in, but it was impossible to do that too, having to keep up with both his speech and his footsteps. We walked along the park, so I didn't think it was too complicated. Then Ivan suddenly halted, and I thought we arrived although I didn't remember this was the place I drove through with Cecilia two days ago. Ivan bounced forward to launch himself on a girl who lounged against a fence.

"Je-nna, my pretty," he singsonged, crushing her in a hug. This guy was just oozing warmth; it was amazing to watch. He was like a thin, gay version of Emmett and Alice combined. I allowed a sneaky glimpse of the girl as she answered one of his questions. I immediately knew she was part of the company. There was something very catlike about her, even by the way she leaned against the fence. She had straight, honey-colored hair that was cut short and barely reached her shoulders.

"Jenna Stevens, meet the lovely Bella Swan," Ivan introduced us. "You'll have to speak slowly though, love; Bella has a wee bit difficulty with understanding _real _English," he said, rolling his eyes at me. I giggled.

"Talk like you always do. I'll catch up."

"Hello, Bella, it's so nice to finally meet you," said Jenna as we shook hands. Then she laughed. "This is Ivan's dream coming true. He believes New York City is the real Emerald City," she said as she elbowed him with a taunting grin.

"Funny. I felt I've landed in Oz since I got here," I admitted sort of sheepishly.

"See? Great minds and all that," said Ivan, wrapping one arm around Jenna's and the other around mine as we fell into step again.

Jenna was as warm as Ivan, and I got to learn a bit about both of them in the short walk we'd had left. She'd been with the company for nearly two years, and she was originally from Glasgow. She was expecting to be promoted into a soloist any day now, whereas Ivan had just been promoted to first soloist, as Cecilia had already told me two days ago. Ivan Cornacovich was actually the stage name for Mark Templeton, who felt his real name was too ordinary for show business. The glasses he wore the first time we met were nothing more than an accessory, and he was a huge sucker for those. Jenna inherited her love for scarves from him. They loved shopping together, and they promised to take me on a sightseeing tour this upcoming weekend.

The rest of the morning was a blur. I met Philippa Logan again and signed the contract, then was shown in to meet the rest of the company and some of the staff. They were all very welcoming. Their upcoming production was _Giselle_, and it was due in a few weeks. I just watched their rehearsal session today before I'd join in tomorrow. I joined Ivan and a few of our colleagues for lunch, and it was easy to forget I'd only met them that morning.

That evening, I decided to tackle my suitcases anyway. Most of my dance outfits were still packed, and I needed some stuff for tomorrow's rehearsal. I sat on the bedroom floor (it was still strange to think of it as mine) with two of them open in front of me now. It annoyed me that because I'd been too ill to handle it, Edward had to do most of the packing. It was sweet of him to help, but it entailed me not knowing where he'd put what, even though I kept close watch. I was too feverish, and then too high on medications at the time, to really remember where everything was.

Kneeling in front of one suitcase, I felt the bottom until I could sense the soft fabrics of my dance tights end. I lifted the entire pile and placed it carefully next to me on the carpeted floor. My forehead cringed when I noticed something between the neatly folded tights. There was a corner of a package peeking up from between them, sparkling silver among the blacks and blues and pinks. What the hell?

I leaned forward and pulled at it. A flat rectangular parcel followed. A gift, I realized with horror. I sat back and stared at it dumbfounded. When did he even get a chance to slip it in? I must have been truly out of it if I hadn't noticed. I just held on to it for a moment, reveling at the thought that he was the last person to touch it. It was a medium of sorts, something to reconnect me back to him, with an entire ocean to separate us now. It was pretty much weightless, lying there in my hands. I was filled with sudden curiosity to know what on earth he could have given me, and remain so secretive about.

Slowly, I ran a nail beneath the soft Sellotape to release whatever was in there. Once I got it open on one end, I held my breath and turned it over. A book slipped face down onto my lap. It was rather thin, in soft pastel colors, like a children's book. I turned it over and a giggle escaped me. There was a pair of pink ballet slippers on top of the book title, _Ballet Shoes_, in curling letters, in a darker shade of pink.

I didn't even have a chance to leaf through the book when a photo suddenly fell out. My fingers were shaking when I picked it up. Emmett took tons of pictures the day Alice and I had our final recital, but I didn't remember seeing any of them, especially not this one. I wasn't too keen on taking pictures, especially with Edward. They made me feel self-conscious. This was why in four years we'd hardly had any pictures together at all. But this one seemed to be taken while I wasn't paying attention. He had one arm wrapped around me, and I sort of leaned into his embrace. My head fit into the crook of his neck perfectly. He didn't seem aware that the photo was being taken too. We were just… sort of gazing at each other. It was a strange thing to look at, like standing aside and watching a scene unfolds. There was something so intimate about the way we were looking at one another that made me want to look away – oddly enough, as I had no reason to, since it was us.

I placed the photo carefully on the carpet and I turned to the book again, knowing somehow it wasn't the end of it. And I was right. There were a few lines scribbled in his handwriting on the first blank page at the beginning of the book.

_Bella,_

_My mom got Alice this book for her tenth birthday, and this was what started her dance craze, as we thought of it at the time. I thought you'd like it, not only because it has ballet in it, but because it takes place close to the area you'll be living at in London. I guess it means you _are_ in the best place to be at this point of your career. I just wish I could be there with you._

_I miss you already._

_Always,_

_Edward._

A warm, moist presence around my eyes made the words impossible to read towards the end. It took me a moment to even realize I was crying. I wiped the tears away, furious with them for not allowing me to read what he'd written, but it was useless; they just kept falling. It felt selfish to cry. I was here by choice, surrounded by lovely people who had done nothing but taking care of me since the moment I got here. Suddenly it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, because he wasn't here. I took the book and the photo and went into bed. I stared at his words for a long time, memorizing every line, every curl of the letters, every dent the pen had made on the paper. His last line said everything, told me how much effort he'd put in those last weeks we had together, trying to hide his misery from me. As I cried myself to sleep that night, my heart echoed his last line, the last thing he'd ever said to me in any form.

_I miss you already._

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A/N 2: more pictures (Bella's place and Edward's gift) are now in my profile, as usual. I can't thank you enough for your reviews on the previous chapter, everyone, I'm sorry I reduced you to tears. Let's see if we can hit 100 reviews on this chapter, shall we…?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: There was a small (and apparently unnoticed) guest appearance in the previous chapter – no one has commented on it, so I assume no one has caught it. Wild guess as for who the guy who helped Bella with her luggage was…? On a different note, thanks so much for your lovely reviews, everyone, and for those who have the story on favorites/alerts. Here's the next installment. I personally think angstward is kind of hot. Happy reading :)**

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Chapter Eight – Edward

It had been the longest week of my life. Every day dragged aimlessly. Every night stretched on and on. Finally getting my bed back was hardly any comfort at all because she wasn't there next to me. I tossed and turned into each sleepless night. The bed felt cold and empty without her, as everything else had.

I knew I should have been comforted by how happy she sounded whenever I got to speak with her, which was more than I dared to hope for. She wasn't sick anymore, and she was as enthusiastic as a child when she told me about her first rehearsals with the company, about things she'd seen and done, about people she'd met. I was happy for her, but miserable for myself. It was weird to share those experiences only from a distance. Every inch of me ached to be with her. My heart was attuned to hers entirely. It was impossible to do anything else, to think of anything else, when she wasn't here. It was as if a part of me was missing. I didn't realize how central she'd become in my life until I'd lost her.

My life revolved around London Time instead of Eastern Standard Time. Whatever time it was, I kept counting five hours forward to make sure I'd always know what time it was in London. I barely slept, fearing this would be when she'd call. It entailed getting to work all drowsy, and nodding off to sleep in more than one occasion, which didn't help. My employer was less than understanding, although she rarely let it show. I was falling apart slowly and methodically, and I had no idea how to get myself together, or if I even wanted to. Bella was gone, Alice and Jasper were abroad, and Emmett would soon give up on me with my constant angst and gloom. I wasn't the best company to keep these days.

I climbed the stairs slowly, as nothing waited for me at home, just more loneliness. Big carton boxes blocked pretty much the entire staircase as well as the hallway of the third floor. I did my best maneuvering through them. Someone must be moving in our out. I shrugged and kept going up. I couldn't care less.

Then, right when I reached my floor, I shook out of my stupor. I heard it, although faintly, but the sound was distinct, the only sound my heart responded to these days. The phone was ringing. I raced to the door and stuck the key into the lock with difficulty. Once I got the door open I kicked it out of my way, shoved my bag off my shoulder, let it drop to the floor, and launched myself at the phone.

"Bella?"

"No, it's me," Emmett said brusquely as he'd obviously caught on the pathetic urgency in my voice.

"Oh, hey," I said, trying to stabilize my shaky breath. "What's up?"

He wasn't in the mood for friendly conversations. "Dude, _what_ are you doing?"

"What, I just walked in." I hoped I could brush it off with indifference.

"_Walked_ in, or raced upstairs because you thought you were going to miss this call?" I didn't say anything. He knew me too well. There was no point denying his accusation or trying to defend myself. On the other end, he heaved a sigh. "Edward, you can't keep doing that." He sighed again, and then his tone changed altogether. Now he was getting practical. "Okay, listen, I'm coming over. Stay right where you are; I'll be right there. And _don't_ try to escape because I'll find you, no matter how big this city is."

Knowing my brother, I thought I shouldn't push my luck. When he arrived, not fifteen minutes later, I was fixing myself some dinner. He looked confused as he showed himself in and shut the door. "Is one of your neighbors moving out?"

"I don't know. I guess so," I replied absentmindedly as I bit into my toast. It was tasteless, but I barely noticed.

He looked exasperated, but he tried not to let it show. "Do you even know what day it is?"

"Monday."

He observed me closely. Whatever he found in my face, it didn't please him. "When was the last time you shaved?"

"I don't know, Saturday?"

"When was the last time you went out?"

"I just got back from work," I pointed out, rolling my eyes. It didn't amuse him.

"When was the last time you got proper sleep?"

"Look, Emmett, I'm doing the best I can, okay?" I snapped, and immediately regretted it as I watched him cringe. "It's just tougher than I thought," I added, more softly this time, and looked away. As pathetic as it sounded while spoken out loud, admitting it was also sort of painful.

He didn't say anything for a moment. When he next spoke, his voice was softer too. Reproach was there all the same. "I know you miss her. But you can't go on like that. You can't live for her calls. You need to get yourself together."

"I'm trying," I said, but it came out as a whisper. My throat felt thick with the unwelcome presence of tears. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself. The last thing I wanted was to cry in front of him.

"Well, maybe you need to try harder." I knew he was honestly trying to help, and I appreciated it. I just didn't show it the best I could just now. "How about we do something fun? The Yankees are playing next weekend. We can go to the game. Maybe Dad can come over too."

I raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Baseball was precisely Emmett's definition of fun, but not mine. My last memory of us going to such a game wasn't pleasant, either. Emmett took Phil and Charlie to see a game when they both came over for Bella's recital, and I tagged along simply because she asked me to. I ended up sitting between Phil and Charlie, trying to ignore the hostile looks they threw at one another and struggling to focus on a game I neither understood nor cared about.

"Scratch the game, then."

He didn't say anything for the longest time, and for a moment I hoped it meant he was going to let it go. I should have known better, though. Emmett was as unrelenting as Alice. But what he said next caught me completely off-guard.

"Maybe… you just need to go out."

The careful, uncertain way in which he said it made it obvious there was more to it than that. I narrowed my eyes at him. "I hope you don't mean what I think you mean."

My glare had hardly any effect at all. "Hey, I'm not saying you have to get to bed with anybody. But do you want to tell me you're intending to lock yourself in from now until she's back? And what if she decides to stay there another year? You'll never walk out of this apartment again?"

I sprang off the sofa and crossed the room in three strides. I needed to stay away from him or I'd end up doing something I regretted. "I can't believe you're trying to convince me to go out with other girls, Emmett, what the hell is the matter with you?"

"Look, I love Bella like a sister. You know that. But she's not here right now. It doesn't mean you're going to stop living! Seriously, Edward, do you really think she'll want that for you?"

The truth was that she would probably smack me if she saw me in my current dysfunctional glory. I lowered my gaze, a wordless admittance. I peeked at him from underneath my lashes to see him nod.

"So get yourself together before you turn into a zombie. Make yourself worthy for her. It's okay if you miss a phone call every now and again." His gaze was intent on mine. He wasn't going to let go, I knew, and a part of me – the more rational part, the one who knew he was right – didn't want him to. "Look, give me a few days to think about it. We'll work something out, okay? But just so you'll know, I'm not going to give up on you."

In my heart, I wished him luck, because it sounded like an impossible mission, considering I'd pretty much given up on myself.

xoxox

Emmett called every day several times to check on me. I made sure to sound more cheerful. I tried to spend more time outside. I even went to visit Anya in her work several times and had coffee with her afterwards. It was nice. Refreshing, sort of. She loved her new job in Lincoln Center, and asked me to come over sometimes and watch. I said I would. A break from my dreary routine was exactly what I needed.

"How are you holding up?" she asked me on Thursday, although I had a feeling she could pretty much tell from my unkempt appearance.

"Honestly? Not so great."

"I can see as much," she shook her head, confirming my previous assumption. Anya was doing pretty much what Emmett had been trying to do, but she'd never been as harsh. "What are we going to do with you?"

"I'm afraid I'm pretty much hopeless," I laughed bitterly.

"I'm not going to give up on you," she informed me, using the exact same words my brother did a few days ago. "I can't do this to her."

I looked away. I knew she missed Bella too. And Alice, probably. "I'll be fine. I'll get over it."

"Oh, I know you will, but the question is when."

"And the answer?"

"If it's up to you, next July. If it's up to me… right now."

"You sound like my brother," I grumbled.

"Your brother is right, then," she said, sipping her coffee. Then she put her mug down, and flashed a devilish grin at me. "I can always tell her the bad shape you're in."

"_No_!" I nearly sprang out of my seat. "Don't – tell her," I said more slowly.

"So you do realize she wouldn't approve. We might be getting someplace." She looked contemplative for a moment, and I took the time to ponder at how different her language was now. Less broken. She was spending too much time with us in the past four years. "Alright, here's what we'll do. I think we need to get you out of the house more."

"I'm already doing that," I pointed out dryly.

"How about getting another job? I saw an ad at the Center this morning… the CSV Center opens a dance workshop for children, and they're still looking for a pianist. You should check it out."

"I might, actually." I did think about finding another job. My current job was getting tedious, but it could be because I was easily bored by anything these days. I looked up at her and smiled. "Thanks."

"Any time," she returned my smile, and now, having another plan to try and get better, I thought how lucky I was to have her.

xoxox

I went over to the CSV Center right after meeting Anya, and got the job on the spot. They had a pianist, but he had bailed in the last minute, leaving them stuck, as the workshop had already started two weeks ago. I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time, and I hoped it meant something about the turn my life was going to take from now on. On my way home I texted Anya to thank her. At least I could be reassured she wouldn't tell Bella the gory details about my lack of coping. Emmett thought it was an excellent idea as well, so I hoped he was going to get off my back now.

Again, I should have known better.

On Saturday afternoon, I was just stepping out of the shower when I heard the phone ring. I did a quick calculation in my head. It was about four, probably nine for Bella. I knew her friends were taking her to dinner tonight because she'd mentioned it when we spoke a few days ago. Reassured it couldn't be her on the phone, I got dressed slowly. There was no reason to hurry.

Then when I walked out of the bathroom, my brother's voice filled the apartment. It threw me off a little; I actually gasped at the sound. It took me a moment to realize he was speaking to the answering machine. "Man, you'd better not be screening me or you'll regret it for the rest of your life," he threatened. "Pick up if you're there, Edward. I mean it. Pick up, pick up, pick up! Okay, I guess you're really not in – "

"I'm here," I said, grabbing the phone.

"Were you planning on letting me talk to myself for much longer?" he chided me.

"You can't complain. My answering machine is much nicer than me these days," I replied tersely.

"That's true, actually."

"Is there a reason you called, Emmett? Because you know, I'm feeling bad enough without all this."

"Yes, actually, I called to ask you if you knew what day it is," he said, all-business.

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see me. "It's Saturday."

"Exactly. Also known as The Day Edward Finally Left His Apartment."

"No."

I didn't realize I said it aloud until he scoffed. "In case I wasn't making myself clear enough, it wasn't a question. You _are_ going out tonight, Edward, whether you like it or not."

It felt almost pointless to argue. And maybe if I played along he'd cut me some slack. "Fine. Where are we going?" I asked sullenly.

"_That_'s the spirit!" He rejoiced. "We're going out for drinks in this cool place Jasper took us to a couple of months ago."

"Rosalie wouldn't mind?" I knew she didn't do alcohol now because of the baby. She couldn't even get near it. The smell made her sick, she said.

"Nah, it's for a noble cause, so she encourages it."

I groaned inwardly. It was hopeless. He'd have an answer for everything. I might as well cooperate. "I'll pick you up around eight thirty. And don't forget to shave. You don't do stubble. Not as well as I do, anyway."

A knock came at the door. I looked up somewhat startled. Aside from Emmett, no one had stopped by here anymore. "Well, as much as I'd love to hear more of your self-praising, there's someone at the door." I held the phone away from my ear and called out "Just a minute!" in the direction of the door.

"Okay, okay. Go. It might be important. Eight thirty, dude!"

I hung up and jogged to get the door. A stranger stood on the doorway. She was wearing worn-out jeans that hung low on her slim waist, and a faded blue tee shirt. Her red hair was held up with a pencil, although quite a few curls managed to escape. She smiled at me when our eyes met. My heart sank. Her dimples reminded me of Bella. "Hi."

"Umm, hi?" I echoed, kind of puzzled. I figured that she must be a neighbor, but none of my neighbors had ever come up here, except to welcome us when we moved in.

"I'm Claire Davis, I just moved in." It explained the boxes in the hallway. She must have lived right below me – us.

"Edward Cullen," I murmured, but didn't offer to shake her hand. She didn't seem as if she'd expected it. I wasn't sure _what_ she'd expected, why she was up here. I ran a hand through my hair in discomfort. "Did you, umm, want something?"

"My TV isn't working and I'm not sure what I've done wrong. My next door neighbor isn't in, and I was hoping you could come and have a look?" she half said, half asked. She looked older than me, and still her request caught me kind of off-guard. No one had ever told her to never let strangers in her house, especially not in New York City?

"I'm pretty technologically challenged," I began to apologize.

"Well, I was told once that two people's ignorance is better than one."

My lips twitched in a smile, my first in days. I didn't have a choice but follow.

xoxox

Chaos dominated in the apartment below, the kind of disarray one would expect to find in a place someone had just moved into. The living room and kitchen areas looked bare. Boxes in various stages of unpacking were scattered across the floor. This, too, reminded me of Bella, and those last few weeks together.

"Where's your TV?" I asked, mostly to send the images away. The sooner I'd get out of here, the better.

"It's right over here," Claire replied, and pointed across the room. I walked over to the TV set and looked behind it. Her cables looked all messed up, but I recognized most of them from putting together our own set a few months back. I told her to cut off the power, and then I settled on the floor and got to work. I unplugged everything, and started over.

"So how long have you been living here?" she asked, sitting across from me on the sofa's armrest.

"A year in September," I said without looking up.

"It's a nice area. I love New York City. I always wanted to go back."

"Go back?"

"I lived in Europe for a while. When I was back I passed through here before I came home. I'm originally from Chicago," she added quickly, as if it was essential for her tale. "And now I thought I'd come back here." She sighed sort of wistfully, and changed the subject completely. "I saw you had a piano up there. Are you a musician?"

I couldn't help but wonder if she was truly interested or just making small talk to avoid an awkward silence. "I'm in the music division in Juilliard. I'm doing my Masters there."

She let out a long whistle. "Wow. Impressive. I always wanted to study there. I'm an actress, you know."

The pretended haughtiness in her tone made me smile despite myself. I glanced up. "Have I heard of you?"

She laughed darkly. "I really don't think so."

"Television? Film? Theatre?" I didn't know what pushed me to ask it. I wasn't really interested.

"Theatre. And nothing mainstream, too. I'm not a _good_ actress. I enjoyed the theoretical part of my studies much better."

"You should have considered teaching, then."

"No. Not me."

Something in her voice made me look up again. Her eyes were distant, and sort of sad. Then, in a second, she snapped out of it and observed the cables in my hands. She grimaced. "How bad is it?"

"You didn't burn the place down," I offered. It made her smile. Those dimples showed up again. I looked away. It hurt too much.

"Yeah, I guess that's something."

"Should work now," I said, straightening up. She disappeared for a second to get the power back on, and then reached for the remote and turned the TV on.

She let out this joyous squeal when a picture showed on the screen. "Yay, it worked! At least I wouldn't have to spend the evening staring at a blank screen. Thanks," she smiled, "I guess you're a better electrician than you thought."

I felt my cheeks flush at the compliment. I ran a hand through my hair. "We have the same set upstairs."

"We?" she cocked an eyebrow, clearly curious.

"My… girlfriend and I." Why did it sound so weird now?

Whatever response I had expected Claire to make, she said nothing. "Well, thanks again."

"Any time."

"It was nice meeting you," she said as she walked me to the door, smiling coyly.

"And you."

It felt as if she wanted to say something else, but she shook her head as if she changed her mind. "Well, I guess I'll see you around."

A part of me was sort of curious as for what she'd meant to ask before. And if curiosity was still a human trait, I guessed I just proved Emmett wrong. I wasn't turning into a zombie after all.

xoxox

"So who was it at the door this afternoon?" Emmett asked me that evening. We were sitting on high stools by the bar. The music was too loud and the lights too dim. The small space reeked from alcohol and cigarette smoke. Since the place was packed, we were located close to the doors, so whenever someone walked in or out, a whiff of cooler, fresher air would assault my nostrils and remind me why I'd usually avoided places like that.

"Oh. Just… my new neighbor. She wanted me to help her fix her TV."

His eyebrows nearly reached his hairline. "_She_?"

"I'm not taking part in this game, Emmett," I pointed out dryly, cringing when I sipped my beer. It was a new brand he'd insisted I'd try. It tasted pretty awful.

"Is she young?" he asked, as if my protests went right through him.

"A few years older than me. About your age, give or take a year."

"Is she pretty?"

"I guess. I wasn't paying attention."

"Blonde? Brunette?"

"Redhead – have you joined the FBI recently, Emmett?"

"I'm just curious."

"If you're curious, set a camp in the lobby of our building. You might get lucky."

"You're missing the point here. The idea is to make _you_ get lucky."

I sighed. I didn't see a way I could possibly dissuade him. Begging was the only way out I had left. "Emmett, please don't."

I might as well be invisible. "I got you out of the house, didn't I?" he insisted, looking smug. "Watch me as I get you some phone numbers."

And he did. I didn't know how he did it – I was too mortified to watch him in action; but half an hour or so later he showed up again and placed five notes on the bar in front of me. "One for each day of the week," he explained, and grinned at me. "This is fun. I could do this every day!"

"Be my guest. You can keep them. These too," I said, pushing the notes in his direction. His hand covered mine in half a second.

"No way, dude. I got them for you. You're taking them. Come on, I want to see you put them in your pocket. Do it, or I'll do it for you."

Scoffing, I did as he said. I knew better than letting him do the honor. Who knew what else he had in mind, or worse – what else he might come up with.

"If calling all five of them is too much, you can choose one. I'm not going to give up, you know, so you might as well say yes."

He locked his gaze on mine, and didn't release me until I sighed. This was all the answer he needed, apparently. A slow, satisfied smile curled on his lips as he smacked my shoulder with more force than was probably necessary. "Good boy."

xoxox

I felt like I was kept hostage, and by my own brother, no less. He kept coming up with things for us to talk about, although it was close to impossible to make a proper conversation with all the background noise. I was surprised when, at eleven, he asked the bartender for our check. It was extremely early in Emmett terms, and for a moment I feared he might have done it so we could continue to another bar. To my enormous relief, this wasn't the case. He didn't want to keep Rosalie waiting, he said, and I uttered a silent prayer for the sake of my pregnant sister-in-law.

The apartment was dark when I walked in, so the blinking red light of the answering machine was the first thing my eyes caught. Considering I'd already spoken to my mom and Anya earlier that day, and I'd just been with Emmett, it could only be one person. I didn't launch on the phone, which was unusual. I took my shoes off instead, practicing self-control, although my heart was hammering in my chest. I tried not to be too eager when I rewound the tape, just in case it wouldn't be who I hoped it was. Then I sank into the sofa and had just placed the small notes on the coffee table in front of me when the message began to replay itself.

"Hi. It's me." I leaned my head on the back of the sofa and closed my eyes, letting her voice fill me like a drug. "I can't sleep, so I thought I'd call, but you're out, I guess." I pretended to detect a hint of disappointment in that realization. "I just wanted to, umm, say hi and ask how you were. I'm off to bed now, so I'll catch you later." She paused. "I love you," she added as an afterthought, and then hung up.

Her voice was so tender, so oblivious. Sitting there with those phone numbers stretched in front of me while listening to her message felt like cheating. I was furious with myself for letting Emmett push me into this. Now guilt was consuming me as if I had done something wrong, as if she could somehow tell he'd convinced me to do it.

It was ridiculous, but I felt bad for not being there to accept her call. I felt selfish for being out having drinks with my brother instead of being here for her when she couldn't sleep. I rewound the tape again. She left it a bit before nine P.M my time, her one A.M. She must have called a few minutes after I left. This thought made me baffled, like a kid who missed his favorite TV show by minutes. The moisture around my eyes was unmistakable. This was insanity. Emmett was right. I was slowly losing my mind. But if her voice was all I had left of her, I couldn't allow myself to lose it too.

I reached out and replayed her message. Then, with her voice as my only comfort, I slowly ripped the five notes into tiny pieces, and tried to think how the hell I was going to break this to Emmett.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine – Bella**

Cecilia was right. By the end of my second week in London I was so busy I hardly had time to think about anything else. There was a lot to learn, so much to get used to – not just about my surroundings, but about the way the company operated as well. I'd known a little already from school and from my conversation with Philippa, but experience was proven to be most effective. Like most other ballet companies, the system of the English National Ballet was rather simple. Every dancer started at the very bottom, being an artist of the company. From there, there was only one way to go – up the pyramid. The most desired position was, of course, senior principal dancers, and some companies went even higher than that, but getting there had taken years to achieve.

I wasn't aiming so high. After hearing that Ivan had just been promoted into a principal soloist after four years with the company, I doubted I even had a chance at being promoted into first artist, which was merely one stage above the one I'd been. I didn't have to do much as an artist of the company. Most of the time, we were just a sort of a live setting while the main events were unfolding onstage. In other cases, we had to stand on our points for twenty minutes straight while one (or more) of the principals was doing a solo. As frustrating as it seemed at first, I didn't let this fact deter me. Observing was part of the process, and I was going to do a lot of that at first.

Insecurities and homesickness aside, I enjoyed every second of my stay. When I wasn't at the studio rehearsing, Ivan and Jenna made sure I'd see as much of the city as possible. In the past couple of weeks they'd taken me to every single important attraction around, and reeducated me about the English language. It was like they had a whole new vocabulary, a secret language no foreigner could understand. They called cell phones mobiles; sneakers were trainers, sweatshirts were jumpers, and dinnertime was called tea even if you weren't actually having tea. In a way it was just like studying a new, unfamiliar language. But to my relief, I was slowly catching on.

All in all, I loved being a part of the company. But in a way, being a part of an ensemble had its limitations. Even as mere extras, we had to attend every rehearsal, of course. When we _were_ given a combination to work on, everyone had to follow the same choreography. Sometimes it felt like we were part of the same entity. Like a wolf pack, I guess, sharing one mind and operating according to it. I understood the purpose. I didn't resent this routine, as tedious as it had become at times. I knew it trained me to be a better dancer; it provided me with professional discipline in a way Juilliard could never do. And yet sometimes it was frustrating because I felt I wasn't given a chance to express myself and my skills as a dancer, not in the same way soloists and the lucky people up the pyramid could.

And so I found myself working extra hours on Friday after our rehearsal ended. The option had always been there. Both Cecilia and the company's artistic director had pointed it out for me when I got here, but so far I'd been too busy settling in. I planned my second weekend in London to be less hectic, hoping it would leave me some time to work privately.

Apart for enormous rehearsal spaces, Markova House had smaller studios just for this purpose. Since most people – Ivan and Jenna included – had other things to do before the upcoming weekend, I didn't have to fight for space. I used the same music since year two in Juilliard. For my birthday that year, Edward made me a few CDs, some with his own personal compositions, some of him playing classical pieces, so I'd have something to work with, he'd said then, blushing as he had. I knew how hard it was for him to share his music with others. I was grateful to be an exception for that. When I started packing for London, his compilations were the first thing I took. He was always in my mind, in my heart, but this way, his music provided me with something more tangible to hold on to.

I'd always lost a track on time while I was dancing, especially while being by myself, and so I wasn't sure how much time had passed before I realized I wasn't alone. When I spun to face the door, a little girl was standing there looking at me. She was wearing a pink leotard with a dark sweatshirt thrown over her shoulders like a cape. She held her ballet slippers in her hand, and there were purple sneakers on her feet. But what was most startling about her was her hair, which was carrot red. It stood out despite the plait it was tied in. The thick braid drooped down her shoulder.

I didn't know what she would be doing here all by herself. I knew some of the students got a chance to teach at children's workshops, pretty much like what Anya was doing in New York, but I couldn't remember if Fridays had been workshop days. I hadn't been there long enough to remember other schedules apart of my own. Nonetheless, she didn't seem lost or frightened. I crossed the room so I could stop the music. She kept watching me curiously when I walked over to her.

"Hi," I smiled at her.

"Hello," in that thick, musical accent I'd become so used to by now.

"What's your name?"

"Emilia Lillian Earnshaw. Emily for short." I smiled. She couldn't be more than eight, and yet she sounded like a proper lady already. "What's yours?"

Two could play her game. "Isabella Marie Swan. Bella for short." Funny, but she reminded me of myself in her age, all grave and serious, waiting for my scatterbrained mother to remember she had to come and pick me up after a lesson in Madame Claudine's studio. I was relieved when finally, after a few years, I was allowed to get home by myself. I wondered if that was Emily's case too. Maybe I should find someone in the administration office and ask them to locate her parents. "Are you here by yourself, Emily? Where's your mother?"

"I don't have a mother," she replied, looking so sad I felt like kicking myself for my tactlessness. I didn't get a chance to even apologize, though, when in the next instant she brightened, as only kids in this age could. "My daddy will be here soon. He's probably still in the library," she said, rolling her eyes a little, a motion that made her look older than however she was.

"Do you dance here?"

"Yes. Since March. But I've never seen _you_ around," she pointed out, looking at me kind of suspiciously.

"I'm new here," I told her.

"You speak funny."

"That's because I'm not from around here."

"Are you from Russia?"

"No. I'm from New York."

She observed me closely, from the bun at the nape of my neck to my black outfit to my slippers, and gave me another suspicious look, as if I had any reason to fool her. "Are you _really_ a dancer?"

I laughed softly at the irony of it. It was a question I'd been asking myself constantly. Somehow, coming from her, I felt this strange need to defend myself. "Yes, I am."

She just kept giving me this dubious look. "All _real_ dancers are from Russia," she said knowingly, and made a face when her eyes met mine. "But if you're not from Russia, and you're not from around here, how will I know you're a real dancer?"

I grinned at her and stepped back into the room. Then I did a short variation, a routine I'd started composing for myself. It was a bit more sophisticated than I'd normally do, but I felt like being arrogant. I thought it was the only thing that might title me as a 'real' dancer in this disbelieving kid's eyes. I threw her a look when I was done, only to gasp in surprise when I noticed she suddenly wasn't alone.

The man – her father, I guessed – raised his hand to stop me when I halted mid-Arabesque. "No, please, don't stop. I'm sorry I startled you."

I straightened up so quickly it hurt my feet. "Don't worry about it," was my breathless reply, half from exertion, half from fright. Not that there was anything intimidating about him. Emily said he was probably still in the library, and from the looks of it, he looked as if he'd fallen asleep there. His grey dress-shirt looked as if it had never been ironed before. His tie was askew and slightly loosened; I felt this strange need to go over there, straighten and fasten it for him. His dark hair was straight but cut short, which was probably why he didn't have trouble with it.

He looked down at the kid, but his no-nonsense air didn't hold. "Emily, why are you bothering this young lady?" he asked her as his eyes wandered back to me. Curiosity dominated in his stare.

"She wasn't bothering me. She doesn't trust strangers, which is actually a good thing."

He raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat puzzled. "An American?"

"Yes," I smiled timidly, feeling my cheeks flare beneath his inquiring gaze. I hated how my accent had always given me away so easily.

"She's from New York," Emily informed him, and flashed a toothy grin at me. My heart melted despite myself. It looked like I finally got her convinced I wasn't fooling her.

"Is that so? Are you new in the company?"

"I'm here for a year. I just got here two weeks ago."

"Shall I call you The American, then, or do you answer some other name?"

"Her name is Bella!"

"Bella," he repeated, as if he was trying it out. "How do you do, Bella, I'm Nathan Earnshaw." I almost expected him to bow as he introduced himself. He looked like that kind of guy. He looked down at his daughter who was watching us curiously. "Are you ready to go, little one?"

"Yes," Emily replied as she put her hand in his.

"I'm sorry for the interruption again."

"Really, it's fine, Mr. Earnshaw."

"Nathan. Please."

"Nathan," I corrected, and there was this familiar warmth in my cheeks. "Anyway, I was just about to finish up here."

"Perhaps you'd like a lift home? To fix the bad impression my daughter must have left?"

I shook my head. "Thank you, but I live ten minutes away from here."

"Daddy, can Bella join us for tea?" Emily asked, looking up at him pleadingly.

His eyes glinted when they briefly met mine. "Why don't you ask _her_, darling?"

She turned her pleading gaze from him to me. "I've never had tea with a dancer before," she told me. Her eyes looked huge. I got a feeling her dad could refuse her nothing. I'd known her for fifteen minutes and I could barely resist her when she gave me that look.

"Give me a few minutes to change?" I directed the question to Nathan. My cheeks still felt warm. His gaze was intense, although he didn't seem aware of it. Still it made me feel self-conscious. He nodded, and said they'd be waiting outside the building before he led Emily out of the room.

xoxox

The front seat of the car was packed with books and binders that all but exploded with what looked like paperwork. He smiled apologetically as he cleared it out and moved everything to the backseat next to Emily, reminding her not to touch it. She nodded seriously as it was a part of some routine they'd had.

We went for a café close by where we had sandwiches and hot chocolate. It felt as if Emily hadn't stopped talking since we got in the car. She told Nathan about the day she'd spent with her friend Tilly at the Regent Park Zoo. By the time we found a booth to sit at, she told him all about how her dance lesson went and the new moves she learned. Then after a while, she brought her attention back to me.

"Have you been dancing long?"

"Since I was eight."

"How old are you now?"

"Emily," Nathan cut her off disapprovingly, looking downright horrified. "You don't ask people their age, it's impolite."

"Why? She isn't old, she can't be!" Emily reasoned and brought her eyes back to me. The question still lingered there.

"If I tell you my age, will you tell me yours?" From the corner of my eye, I saw Nathan chuckle. She nodded eagerly. "I'll be twenty four in September."

"You see? Twenty four is not old."

It was directed at her dad, but it made me laugh. "I'm glad you think so. How old are _you_?"

"I'll be seven in February."

It was easy to forget she was in fact very young. "Have you been dancing long?"

"It feels like that sometimes," Nathan laughed. "I took her to see _The Nutcracker_ last Christmas, and our lives have never been the same again."

"Maybe you'll be Fairy Sugar Plum in this year's show," Emily said, and gave me a sort of a hopeful look.

"I really doubt it," I laughed. I wished getting solos was so simple.

"Why wouldn't they give it to you?"

"Because new members of the company don't usually get leading roles so fast. You have to work really hard to deserve it."

"I'm sure you do. But can't you talk to someone to get it?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't really work that way, Emily."

"And luckily there's enough time until Christmas," Nathan cut her off again, throwing an apologetic grin at me. I shrugged. I didn't mind it. Her directness was endearing. "Twenty four, you must be fresh out of college," he said, looking desperate to divert his daughter's attention. I nodded. "Juilliard?" he guessed.

"Yes."

"I knew a teacher who became a lecturer there. Is Robins still around?"

"He might be. I don't know." It had been a while since I'd taken elective courses. "Are you a teacher, then?"

"I'm an eternal scholar who has to make a living," he laughed bitterly. "I teach too, occasionally; currently, at the University of Westminster."

"What do you teach?"

"Drama and literature." He paused and observed me, puzzlement reflecting in his stare. "Why are you smiling?"

I didn't realize I was. "That's… kind of great," I said slowly, shaking my head as I laughed. "My plan B was to become a librarian. I once had this discussion with… someone." I stopped a second before I said the name, my heart shrinking with pain. "If I ever had to go to a different college, I'd choose literature as a major."

So we sat there and he told me more about his job and his research. He laughed when I told him about my love for classics, and said I reminded him a few of his students. He had a passion for Shakespeare, whose works I knew but not thoroughly enough. He named a few books I could look at if I ever had some free time, and said he could probably get me a pass for the university's library if I wanted. At some point Emily's head drooped against my shoulder. I looked up surprised. I didn't know how long we'd been sitting there, but the poor kid looked completely worn out.

"I wanted to apologize for Emily's behavior again. She tends to say things that are on her mind without stopping to consider whether they're offensive to others or not. Self-control isn't one of her strongest suits."

"Redhead," I shrugged. It made him smile, but it was a melancholic sort of smile; not forced, just sad.

"Did she get it from her mom?" I asked carefully what I'd already guessed, but nothing prepared me for his grief-struck expression.

"Yes, she did," he replied softly, his face unreadable.

By now I had several theories. I already knew it was just the two of them, not just because Emily had said so, but because of the lack of a ring on his finger, the state of his clothes, the fact his car was packed with books in a seat no one had normally occupied, and many other small instances. The thing I wasn't quite sure of yet was under which circumstances it happened. Whether he was divorced or a young widower, Nathan and Emily seemed to have a bond that was stronger than I'd ever seen before. I sort of envied it. I wished my dad and I had a similar connection when I was her age.

"Does Emily take her lessons in Markova House?"

"No. She has a lesson after school once a week, but her teacher there suggested she'd come over there for extra practice. Some members of the company work privately with children, and more so during the summer when schools are off. Various ballet companies do, but this one was the closest I could find who would take her in."

"You live around here, then?"

"We live across the park, closer to Marble Arch. Where do you stay while you're here?"

"I'm house-sitting for my mom's friend about ten minutes away from here," I gave him the summarized version. He looked so tired, as if he hadn't slept properly in weeks. It must be so difficult, to raise a kid by himself and trying to keep up with his research and work and everything. I wondered if he had time for personal life at all. "It must be tough during the summer." I remembered Renée trying to think of dozens of different ways to entertain me as a kid.

"We manage. Sometimes she'd spent the entire day at her friend's house, some other day we'd have her friends over for the day. We parents split the burden when necessary. Tilly's mother is an utter saint for taking the girls to the Zoo today."

"Well, if you ever need a babysitter…"

"Be careful what you wish for. She might want to adopt you," he joked.

"You keep looking at me like you're expecting me to run away screaming," I laughed nervously. He had this guarded expression which made me sort of giddy.

"Young women seem to find single fathers intimidating." Whatever he found in my eyes – probably shock – he quickly added, "I didn't mean it like that. I assure you I wasn't insinuating anything by… Please don't run away _now_, it might upset her." He slumped in his seat, looking mortified with himself. He could barely look at me.

"I wasn't going to." He seemed relieved. I wasn't offended or furious by his statement. More than anything, I pitied him. Whatever had happened to Emily's mother, I had the distinct feeling it wasn't a pleasant story. I smiled sadly. For a moment, I felt as lonely as he seemed to be. "Besides, even if you _were_ insinuating anything, I would have said it's too bad, but it'll never happen."

Either my blush gave me away, or the sadness in my voice. Or both. He nodded as if he understood. "He's a lucky man."

I'm the one who's lucky, I thought. A familiar lump was forming down my throat. There were moments where nothing else was on my mind, not the stress of rehearsals or adjustment to a new place. I hated those moments of vulnerability. They made loneliness much more poignant. I missed him so much.

"Is he here with you?"

"No," I whispered. "He stayed in New York."

"I'm sorry." He sounded as if he meant it. His stare was grave, fathomless, when he shook his head. "If it's comforting in any way, I know how it feels like, to yearn for someone who isn't there."

His eyes fell on his daughter. The amount of pain I found there was overwhelming. I wondered if I'd ever dare to ask him about her mother. But then before I could decide, he leaned towards her and gently shook her awake. "Time to go home, little one."

I followed behind as he carried her to the car, and my heart ached for this lonesome man and his daughter.

xoxox

Emily slept through most of the way to my place. We spoke quietly so we wouldn't wake her, but all the small bits of information I gathered – that he was thirty five, that the main subject of his research was the supernatural in Shakespeare's plays, that he'd been to America twice – didn't answer my question about Emily's mom. And by the time we said goodnight, I thought that maybe I'd better not know. It was bad enough to see the effect it had on them – him more than Emily – and how broken it had made them. We said goodbye without switching phone numbers, although I half-expected him to ask me for mine. And then again it made sense to me that he didn't, considering how terrified he was of me running off. I had a feeling I'd see them again very soon, regardless.

xoxox

On Sunday, Ivan announced he was going to take me to the market in Camden. We were supposed to go last week, but it was raining so hard, it seemed pointless to wander around the market in pouring rain. It would be just the two of us – Jenna would be out of town for the entire day. I was sorry not to have her around, but Ivan promised me I'd love Camden so much I'd want to go back there sometime anyway, which would be when she'd join us.

Since he was supposed to come and get me from my place, and he was always late (he was late for everything, except rehearsals; Jenna used to tease him and say he was living according to a different time zone than the rest of the universe), I took my time getting ready. I turned the radio on before I stepped into the shower. The music wasn't exceptionally loud, but loud enough for me not to notice the different sort of music that was coming from the living room, where I'd last left my cell phone. I dashed down the hallway with nothing on but a towel wrapped around me, leaving footprints along the carpeted floor. I accepted the call a second before the ringing ceased. "Hello," I breathed.

"_Well_, are you such an important ballerina already that it takes you ages to answer your own phone?"

"_Alice_!" I shrieked. I hadn't spoken to her since I got here, and when I last saw her I was so sick it hardly even counted. I didn't realize how much I missed her until I heard her voice.

"_Hi_!" she giggled. "I'm sorry I've been such a rotten friend and haven't called before, but I've been _so_ busy and then I saw Jasper and the reception in Greece was simply dreadful – "

I laughed and headed to the bedroom. "Where are you calling from?"

"We're in Amsterdam, heading for Paris tomorrow. How are you? How's London? Isn't it amazing?"

"It's incredible," I agreed. I tucked my phone between my ear and shoulder, trying to keep it steady and get dressed at the same time. "I'm having a great time."

"Are they taking a good care of you?"

"Everyone is lovely – "

"_Woo_, listen to her, she's speaking British already!" she taunted. I sniggered. "And what else, what else, we've got _so_ much to catch up on!"

"You should be very proud of me, I went shopping."

She squealed. "Sending her to London was all it took! Why haven't I thought of it?"

"And I'm on my way to Camden in a bit," I said, hunting for a pair of socks to fit my cardigan.

"Camden," she sighed wistfully. "Ah, I envy you."

"Well, get your butt over here already and we can go together!"

"This was why I was calling, actually."

"You're coming over?" I exclaimed.

"In two weeks! It's our last stop before we're going home. I don't know the particulars yet, but I'll be in touch."

"I can't wait to see you."

"Me too, it's going to be so awesome! Look, I have to go, but I'll call back as soon as I know more, okay?"

Only when I hung up, I realized she'd asked me nothing about Edward.

Ivan showed up shortly afterwards. His dark green turtleneck complimented the color of his eyes in a strange sort of way. He wasn't wearing any of his glasses today, nor his hats. He looked as plain as I'd ever seen him since I got here. He was literally towering over me when I opened the door for him with my socks. "Hello, midget, I'm looking for Bella Swan," he said, dead serious, as he nonchalantly leaned against the doorframe.

"Come in," I grumbled, smacking him as he walked passed me into the apartment. "I'm just getting my bag, get yourself busy."

As I hurried down the hall, I heard him calling after me, "Don't forget to put some shoes on!"

I zipped my boots and slipped into my jacket. When I stepped into the living room again I froze. He was standing in the middle of the room observing something flat and small he held in his hand. I instantly knew it had to be the photo, because the book Edward got me was still on the coffee table, where I left both of them the other night. I wanted to run forward, snatch it from his hand and hide it. My heart was beating so fast as if he was reading a diary I'd kept hidden. Even my palms were sweating. My reaction was foolish. It wasn't like he found out some great secret. He looked up at me now, his eyes a mixture of surprise, confusion, and betrayal. I felt insanely guilty, irrationally so.

"Who is _that_?" he asked, holding up the photo as if to make his point.

I cringed. I could sense the blood pooling to my face before it settled on my cheeks. "My boyfriend," I replied, smiling sheepishly.

He gaped at me for a second, as if he needed time for the new information to sink in. Then he shook his head with what seemed like disbelief. "You, my dear, have been keeping secrets from me!" he accused me, but he didn't really look mad. Then he squealed. "He's _gorgeous_! If you ever get tired of him, feel free to pass him on," he added, winking, which made me blush harder.

"Don't count on it, I'm not going to pass him on," I laughed and jokingly snatched the photo from his hand like I'd intended to do earlier.

"I can't believe you haven't said anything before."

"Well, I'm not going around with a tee shirt saying _hi, my name is Bella and I have a boyfriend_ on it," I pointed out.

"Well, you clearly should," he said, snatching the photo from me again as if we were in third grade. I almost expected him to run around the room with it and force me to chase him. He watched it thoughtfully for a moment, and sighed sort of longingly. "They're either married, or straight." Then he looked up at me, and his stare was serious. "Is it very difficult?"

"Sometimes," I admitted. He nodded and handed me the photo. I looked at it for a moment before I looked up at Ivan and smiled. "But I have some good friends who make it less horrible."

He returned my smile, and switched into practical mode all of a sudden. "Well, let's make you pretty for him," he said and grabbed my hand. We were out of the apartment in no time.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten – Edward**

July ended and somehow I didn't notice. Ever since I'd taken that second job at the community center, days suddenly began to move faster than I thought possible. I had much more fun in my new job. Kerry, my other employer, was younger than Olga, and warmer. Since the dance workshop was her idea, she was extremely enthusiastic about the project, sometimes even overly so. I didn't have to play just slow, never-ending classical pieces, because they didn't focus on ballet. And the kids were great, a fact which surprised me. I was sure it would be awkward. I'd never seen myself as someone who could relate to kids, because I hadn't really had a chance to be around them before. But a few weeks into the job, I felt like I made a real bond with them. When last weekend a little girl came over to me and wished me a good weekend, I thought my heart would melt.

All in all, I blessed Anya and her idea every day. As exhausted as I'd been, I got what I wanted. I hardly had time for self-pity anymore. I scolded myself for not thinking about doing this before.

It was one of the hottest days this city had ever known, and with my bad luck, I had to spend it in Olga's studio rather than at the community center. The air conditioning at the studio wasn't working well. It was making more noise than getting out cold air, so we made a vote and turned it off. I voted against turning it off, so it didn't make me feel any better. The air was stuffy despite the open window; it seemed to be standing still. Not even the faintest hint of breeze came through. My tee shirt was clinging to my skin. I could feel sweat trickling down my back. The lesson seemed to be lasting longer than normally. All I wanted was to get home and take a shower.

I uttered silent thanks when we were finally dismissed. The girls seemed to be relieved as well. The only one who didn't seem to feel any discomfort was Olga, who gathered her stuff with that same apathetic expression. Before I had a chance to leave my spot, I saw Jordan approach me. I tensed. Having Jordan Larkin approach me was never a good thing. Ever since Bella had left she was trying to corner me, and didn't even try to be inconspicuous about it. I guessed every other guy, Emmett especially, would say I was insane for acting so indifferent, and I guessed that in a way I was. She was a pretty girl, there was no denying that. Her ivory skin was always flawless, and she had long, jet black hair and almond-shaped eyes. A brunette Barbie, the intimidating kind. Completely not my thing.

Jordan didn't seem to absorb that.

"Hi," she told me now, flashing a brilliant smile at me. Her forehead was glistening with perspiration, but not in a way that made her look dirty. It suited her, as could only be the case with glamour girls like her. She looked like a girl in one of those workout shows on some tropical island or other.

"Hi."

"This heat wave is crazy, isn't it?" she said, dabbing her forehead with a pink towel.

"Insane," I agreed, and wondered what was on her mind. Luckily, I didn't have to guess for long. Jordan had usually gone straight to the point, and now was no different.

"So, umm, it's my birthday tomorrow," she said, her lips curl in a supposedly coy smile. I saw right through it.

"Happy birthday," I said, failing to see the point of this statement yet.

"I'm throwing a party tomorrow night and I was wondering… I mean I was hoping… you'd want to come too?"

I knew she wasn't normally so unconfident, so I figured her stammered invitation was an act. "I don't know if I'm available," I said, running a hand through my hair in discomfort. I hated lying, no matter for how noble a cause. Of all the weekends he insisted on taking me out, Emmett had to leave this one off. How fitting.

I didn't know if she knew I was lying, but either way a slow smile curled on her full lips now. "Well, if you change your mind," she said, her voice low and sultry, "Ten, at _Velvet_."

I nodded, although I was already decided on not going.

xoxox

"_Of course_ you are going!" Emmett ruled when I stupidly told him about Jordan's invitation that evening.

I threw Rosalie a look of distress. She raised her arms in certain defeat. "Don't look at me; I don't want anything to do with this." She folded them on her growing belly. She was due in approximately two months, which made us all giddy with excitement, especially my mother and Emmett. Seeing her change was the only thing that pulled me out of my depression in these endless days of numb indifference. I'd never seen her more radiant than in the past few months. She was sitting with her feet propped on a pillow against the coffee table. She broke her no-feet-on-the-table policy as a result of back pains from which she'd been suffering throughout the day.

Emmett, who had just brought her a cup of tea, narrowed her eyes at her, so I knew it meant she was on my side. It also told me that they had been talking about me before, probably since this whole damn situation had started.

"Don't encourage him, Rose, come on!"

"I don't think he should be forced to go out if it serves an opposite purpose," she reasoned.

Emmett shook his head, and despair was clear in his eyes. "He _needs_ to go out!"

"What's the point if he's forced to do it? That won't make things any better."

"Exactly!" I interjected. I was so relieved to have someone's sympathy that I didn't even care they were arguing as if I wasn't even there. My eyes met Rosalie's for a brief moment. The tiniest grin appeared on her lips before she turned to face Emmett again.

"Look, he's getting better. He's distracted. He's going out more. He doesn't think about it twenty-four-seven. Why does he have to go clubbing if he doesn't feel like it?"

"Because Emmett thinks I should start seeing other people," I pointed out dryly, scowling at him. I still resented him for telling me that.

Emmett didn't respond, although he clearly wanted to. Maybe he thought the argument would be pointless. I didn't know how much Rose knew, especially when it came to the proposal that never came to be, but she didn't say anything either. "Is it because you don't want to go alone? What if I go with you?"

"You can't go with him," said Rosalie. "My parents are coming to dinner, remember?"

"Oh, crap, I forgot," he slapped his forehead.

"You can't hold his hand from now until next July, Emmett. Let him handle things on his own, for a change, he's not a baby."

"If it was up to him, he'd crawl into a hole and stay there until she's back." He threw me a menacing look, one I was sure he used on his students. "Go or not, it's your business. You can pout from now until next July, but I'm only trying to help you."

The desperation in his voice was clear, and it made my heart ache. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I knew he meant well. His ways of showing it were just odd, that's all. "I know that. But I want to try and do this my way. If I need help, I'll let you know."

"Fine," he grumbled, and I could see that even though I meant it to sound as a resolution, it didn't satisfy him in the slightest.

xoxox

I was home earlier than usual. Normally I'd stay to dinner at Emmett and Rosalie's, but since Rosalie wasn't feeling well and they had to prepare for her parents' arrival, I didn't want to be an unnecessary burden. I rented a movie and got some Chinese for dinner, hoping it would be enough to kill the time. Unfortunately I didn't feel exceptionally tired. I had a feeling it was going to be a long evening.

When I walked in, my eyes automatically settled on the phone. I knew what I wanted to do. I hadn't spoken to Bella for a few days now. Usually she was the one calling here on weekdays because she was a few hours ahead. On weekends it was mostly me initiating our conversations. I glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. It should be a bit before eleven there for her. It wasn't very late… was it?

I began to dial before I even had an answer to that question. I didn't care. I just wanted to hear her voice.

I did, however, regret my impulsive move when a few moments later she answered, and her greeting was husky. "Damn it, I woke you."

"Edward!" There was a smile in her voice, and I felt my lips curl in reply. "I didn't even realize I fell asleep," she said. I thought I heard her stretch.

"You fell asleep in front of the TV again?"

"I did, actually," she laughed softly. "Don't beat yourself up over waking me, though. If I come back and you have dark circles around your eyes, I'll have no one but myself to blame."

We didn't say anything for a moment, which had happened often and had always felt like a waste – not just of money. There was so much I wanted to tell her, but I never had, always fearing to tire her out or just bore her.

"How is everyone?" she asked eventually. "Emmett and Rosalie? Is she huge already?"

"Pretty much," I laughed. "She's a little unwell today, but it's nothing serious. They didn't go to Forks eventually. The doctor said it shouldn't be dangerous for her, but Emmett didn't want to take any chances. You know how he is."

"Did your parents come over instead?"

"Two weekends ago. And maybe next week. I'm not sure yet." The truth was that I didn't care, but I didn't want her to witness the level of indifference I stooped to.

"How's this new job going?"

"It's actually great. There's been talking about continuing it throughout the school year. I hope I can keep it."

"And quit the studio?"

"Yes, maybe. Being around kids makes me feel younger, I guess," I joked.

"Saw anything you liked?" she teased me.

"Well, one of the students does seem to have a crush on me."

"Is she pretty?"

"Brown hair, hazel eyes, yes, I'd say she's very pretty."

"Should I feel threatened?"

"Well, her name is Cherrie and she's nine, so in case you find nine year olds threatening…"

"I don't know. It sounds like I've got quite a competition. My friend Ivan here is pestering me I'll give him your number. Between a gay dancer and a nine year old, how much chance do I have?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds tempting. Maybe I _should_ reconsider my options." She laughed. I closed my eyes against the soft sound. _Get a grip_. "What's up with you? How are those rehearsals going?"

"Pretty well. We're moving into the theatre on Monday. We open next week."

"_Giselle_, was it?"

"Ah-huh," she said through a yawn.

"Scared?"

"Shitless," she confessed, "which is rather silly considering I'm an insignificant chorus girl, if you want to get technical."

"If this is how you feel, you might as well come home," I chided her. She chuckled. "Alice is coming over to see you soon, isn't she?"

"Next weekend. It's their last stop before they go home. I hope I'll have some time to spend with her because we open a few days afterwards."

"That's great," I said distractedly, trying not to let my envy show. But I thought she noticed, anyway.

"So, umm, it's nearly the weekend. What are you up to?"

I groaned inwardly. Might as well tell her. "Actually, I'm invited for a birthday party. One of the girls from work is throwing a party and she asked me to – "

"Like a date?" She cut me off before I managed to finish my explanation. There was this unfamiliar edge to her voice, different than the playful tone she used before. It was almost panicked now. It made me laugh. A lot.

"She wishes." My laughter died a little. "Emmett thinks I should go out more. I don't necessarily agree, but I don't want him on my back either."

"Emmett is right. You _should_ go out. Whose birthday is it?"

She knew the girls I'd worked with, briefly. I wondered if her curiosity had more to it, but replied anyway. "Jordan Larkin."

On the other end, there was silence. It was clear she remembered Jordan well. I wished I could see her face. I couldn't help but laugh again. The thought of her being envious of someone like Jordan was just too absurd to conceive. "You know you've got no reason to be jealous, right? That there's absolutely no competition?"

"Of course I do," her voice was soft, but confident. Well, that was something, at least. "You just caught me by surprise, that's all."

She didn't say anything else, and I wondered what the silence meant. And then I thought I had the perfect getaway right there. "I don't have to go," I said softly, holding my breath for her reply. I wouldn't want to upset her by going, so if _she_ asked me not to go…

"No, no. You _should_ go."

I sat back, somewhat baffled. Everything was against me. I sighed. It looked like the resolution was made for me. "I will. I'm too scared of Emmett to attempt otherwise." On the other end, she laughed through another yawn. "You should go back to sleep," I said, trying to conceal my reluctance to say goodbye. "I'll call you on Sunday. I know Emmett wants to talk to you too."

"Okay. Talk soon then."

"I love you."

"Me too."

I held the phone close to my ear long after we hung up. Then I slowly stood up and went over to get my dinner. I couldn't believe it was a little over a month since she was gone. Sometimes it felt like so much more. I'd give anything to see her, even for a day. With this production ahead, soon she wouldn't even have time to talk. I really wanted to be there for her when they opened. Despite her fears, I knew how important this was for her. Her first real performance was a big thing even if she was just an insignificant chorus girl. And her birthday was also coming up, another one we wouldn't be able to celebrate –

The fork froze halfway to my mouth as my heart began to race. My thoughts got ahead of me, but my mind was now set on one realization. I _could_ be there for her on her birthday. There was no reason why I wouldn't go see her. I wouldn't tell anyone until it was booked and done, I decided. I already knew Emmett wouldn't approve. He'd try to lecture me and talk me out of it, but my mind was set. Of course, it was rotten timing to have Bella's birthday so close to the beginning of the semester. But if missing a few days of schools was what it took to see her, then that was what I would do.

xoxox

It was amazing how one resolution could brighten up one's mood so completely. I woke up the next morning livelier than I'd been in a long time. I spent the morning before work online, searching the airlines for flight prices. I smiled to myself when I searched the theatre's website to make sure the evening before her birthday wasn't sold out. My smile widened an inch when I imagined her reaction. I could see it so clearly: the surprise in her dark eyes, the pink in her cheeks, the gasp that would linger on her lips. Suddenly I was anxious for time to pass already.

My euphoria lessened considerably towards the afternoon when I thought of my plans for this evening. I couldn't believe how stupid I was. A mistake followed a mistake. First I wasn't as assertive as I clearly should have been when Jordan invited me to her party, then I let it slip next to Emmett that she had, and then I told Bella, who actually encouraged me to go. At first I thought I'd manage to pull out of it with some excuse and handle Emmett's rage later, but now that Bella knew – not just about that, but about Emmett's intention to get me out… I didn't want her to know the mess she'd left behind.

So by the time I got home, I hated everyone. I hated Alice for being able to see Bella when I wasn't (it didn't count that I had a plan about seeing her very soon). I hated Emmett for forcing me into going to a party I had no interest in. I was close to hating Bella for not making a scene about me being invited someplace by another girl. Most of all, I hated myself for not being more aggressive when Jordan asked me to come.

In this state of renewed self-pity I nearly bumped into Claire in the lobby of our building. She stopped herself just in time and looked irritated by the interruption. Then our eyes met, and a bright smile replaced her grimace. "Oh, hey! I haven't seen you around lately!"

"I've been busy."

"I thought school didn't start until September," she said, puzzled.

"It doesn't. I've been working. I play in a ballet studio a few times a week. And there's a dance workshop for children in a community center not far from here; I play there too."

Her eyes glinted. "Do you have time to breathe?"

"Barely," I returned her grin. "Everything is okay in your apartment?"

"I haven't burnt the place down, if that's what you mean," she said, rolling her eyes. I chuckled. "So do you have exciting plans for this evening?"

It was as if she'd read my mind. "I'm invited for a birthday party," I grumbled.

She observed my face carefully, and then another smile broke her concentration. "Why do you act as if you're going to attend a funeral, then?"

"I'm not… much of a social person, I guess." Yes, that worked.

"Ah, come on. How bad can it be?"

"Do _you_ want to come with me, then?"

I caught myself a second after the words were out, but it was too late to take them back. I glanced at her fretfully, but luckily she didn't seem to be taking my slip too seriously. I was too relieved to take offense. "Sorry. I stopped attending those when I turned thirty."

"Turning thirty is hardly an excuse," I protested. "If my brother is not too old for bar hopping, you can't possibly be too old to attend birthday parties in posh nightclubs."

"Posh nightclubs are the worst!" she mock-groaned. Then she smiled haughtily. "Besides, theoretically, if I came with you, wouldn't your girlfriend be offended you're taking me instead of her?"

It was clearly said in jest, an innocent retort to my previous invitation. Unfortunately, with the wound Bella's absence had inflicted, it was like opening an unhealed gash. "She's… not around," I said, struggling to compose myself.

Claire shook her head with what seemed like understanding. "Away for the weekend?"

"For the year. She's a dancer. She'll be living in London until next summer."

For a moment, she didn't say anything. It was obvious she wasn't expecting that kind of a reply. She looked horrified – with herself, I guessed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" Her voice trailed off. Her eyes darkened with remorse. "Were you together for long?"

I tried not to let the past tense get to me. "Four years."

She let out a long whistle. Then she gave me another sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. I do that, you know, saying things without thinking. Redhead," she shrugged, touching a strand of her hair as if to prove her point.

"It's okay. It's me. She just left last month and I'm not… handling it too well." For a moment, I wanted to kick myself for saying that. _She doesn't care_, I scorned myself.

"She's a very lucky girl then. You should have seen your face when you answered me. You looked like someone died."

"It feels like that sometimes," I admitted. I could never tell Emmett that. He'd smack me for sure for even thinking that. Why I was telling _Claire_ that was beyond me. She was practically a stranger, just a woman who lived in the apartment below us. But confiding in her seemed strangely safe. As if I instinctively knew that unlike Emmett, she would understand.

She looked as if she wanted to say something, but she didn't. Instead, she shook her head. "London, huh?" she asked, and her forehead furrowed as if this fact bothered her.

"What's wrong with London?"

"I just… have some unpleasant memories from there, that's all. I'll tell you sometime, if you get really depressed. In the meantime, I really have to go." She walked passed me, but then changed her mind and turned to face me again. "If you ever need to talk…" She let her voice trailed as she laughed softly. "I know from experience that ranting to other people can be extremely liberating."

I laughed humorlessly. "Thanks, Claire."

"Enjoy the party," she flashed me a devilish grin and was out of the front door before I managed to find a proper backfire.

xoxox

_Velvet_ was one of the trendiest clubs in New York City. Even Emmett's eyes bulged when I told him where the party was to take place. It sort of caught me off-guard. I assumed that someone who studied ballet – even though not professionally – would have a more restrained taste as far as entertainment went. Then again it shouldn't come as huge surprise when it came to Jordan, who was known for her theatricality. She planned to make it on Broadway, and make it big. She planned to be bigger than Bernadette Peters and Chita Rivera combined. I'd never understood what she was doing in Olga's studio, really. She should have gone straight to the Radio City Music Hall to be a Rockette.

The music was blasting even from across the street. I winced. If it was so loud out there, I could imagine how it was inside. There was a guard at the entrance, and he was checking the arriving people against a list he had in his hand. He looked huge, bigger than Emmett, and intimidating as hell. For a moment I wasn't sure if I wanted my name on that list or not. An easy entry would be nice, but what if my name wasn't there and he was going to kick me out, quite literally?

I told him my name, and he glanced at his list and nodded me in. I breathed a sigh of relief and hurried inside. I squinted into the darkness. The walls were painted black, making the small space look smaller and much more packed than it probably was. I was momentarily dizzy. All around me people were dancing, smoking, yelling to one another, making out in dark corners. The ear-deafening music dominated everything. It was my worst nightmare.

Jordan was easy to spot despite the many people that occupied the small space. She was moving among her guests with skill I'd only seen with Alice before, looking like an exotic bird in her scarlet mini dress. It clung to her like second skin, showing off every curve of her slender figure. It clearly served its purposes, too. No one remained indifferent to her outfit, men and women alike.

When she saw me, a huge smile lit her face as she bounced forward and threw herself at me. "Edward! I knew you wouldn't let me down!"

"I can't stay long," I said, untangling myself from her grip. "Happy birthday," I added as an afterthought, forcing a smile.

"Thank you, you're very sweet," she replied, flashing a brilliant smile at me. I cringed. "Do you want to dance?"

"Maybe later." I mumbled a quick apology and headed for the bar. I had absolutely no intention to add dancing into the ongoing torture list tonight was going to provide. I had my limits. If I was going to submit myself to this, I was going to do this under my terms. No dancing was definitely at the top of this list. I asked for a beer and made sure to keep sitting with my back to the dance floor. Already I regretted coming here.

I didn't know how long I was sitting there. A while, to judge by the way my glass began to sweat. I felt like an unwelcome intruder. I hardly knew anyone – even the girls who danced at the studio all came with someone and hardly nodded in my direction. I sat there trying not to look too detached or disinterested. If Bella were home, I would have dragged her here with me so we could make fun of everyone. In this scenario I'd just come up with, I wouldn't mind taking the floor, because Bella was there. She wouldn't wear a short dress like most of the girls around here. She'd have on black jeans, low cut, tight fit, the ones she'd rarely worn, and a blue tanktop. Her hair would be loose, wild on her back, tickling my arms whenever she'd press herself against me as we'd move slower than the rhythm of the deafening music.

I was so engrossed in my little fantasy that when Jordan came towards me, it was too late to make an escape without being rude. "Is it later yet?" Her face was set in a seductive sneer. I threw her an inquiring look, still holding on to the remainders of my daydream. "You said you'd dance with me," she reminded me, her lips curling in a pout. Somehow I got a feeling the word 'no' was not a part of her vocabulary. I sighed inwardly, feeling my confidence crumple, and let her tow me to the floor.

She couldn't have orchestrated it better if she tried. The music shifted the moment we reached the middle of the floor. A slower song was playing now. I saw a hint of a satisfied grin flickering on her lips as she snaked her arms around my neck. I awkwardly put my hands on her waist. It felt strange to hold so intimately someone who wasn't Bella. As we slowly swayed to the music, I tried to focus on the cheesy lyrics rather than on the way Jordan leaned against me. Her fragrance was faint, mixed with sweat and alcohol. I focused on a spot over her shoulder, wishing I could be far away from here.

"I'm really glad you came, you know," she said, looking up. She was wearing too much makeup. She stood so close I could see the places where her eyeliner was smeared. "I didn't think you would. You're always so… detached at the studio."

"I'm just trying to do my job."

"I thought this isn't your kind of thing," her eyes flickered around us before the locked back on mine, awaiting my reply.

"It isn't."

"Why did you come, then?" But she meant it rhetorically. Her expression settled into that seductive sneer again. "Don't tell me." I stopped myself from gasping when she pressed herself against me. "You came for me," she murmured, her lips suddenly inches from mine.

"Jordan – " I pulled back and pushed her as gently as I could. She was out of line, and still I didn't have the heart to hurt her.

She didn't even have the courtesy to hide her disappointment. "Why?"

I shook my head. "You know why."

Clearly, she did. She pouted. "She doesn't have to know."

"I don't think so," I said quietly, and reached out to unlock her arms from around my neck. I ignored her pleading stare when I walked away from there and made my way outside.

Stupid, I scorned myself on the way home. I should have known she'd try to pull off such a trick. Because really, why else would she invite me there? I knew Emmett was going to be extremely upset with me. He still hadn't forgotten the phone numbers incident, and I suspected this one would be the last straw. But I didn't care. From now on, I was going to handle things _my_ way, and this time I'd stick to this decision. School would start soon, the perfect distraction. I'd see Bella in just a few weeks and everything would be better. And maybe, I thought as I passed her door, maybe I'd take Claire's advice and talk to her about it.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: happy March, everyone! I'm taking this opportunity to thank you again, readers, reviewers, lurkers. I'm really glad you keep checking back, and I hope you will continue to do so, because it's just getting good – or at least I hope so! Comments are still lovely =)**

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Chapter Eleven – Bella

There was certain relief in realizing that my life had slipped into a familiar routine without me noticing. The opening night of _Giselle_ was a little over a week away. There was something frustrating about knowing we'd been working for so long on such a short production. Most of the company's productions were less than a week long. This one was relatively long, about two weeks. Some people started running bets about our next production, which was due at the end of October. That alone was a serious letdown for me, because it suddenly dawned on me I wouldn't be able to be there when Rosalie gave birth. When I told Emmett that in one of our few conversations, he dismissed my concern and told me I was being silly. He'd send me pictures of the baby, and all I had to do was to make sure I'd kick some butt in the production, and find his baby girl (and her daddy) a Chelsea hoodie.

In the end of July I got my picture taken for the company's website and for the programs that were about to be printed. It made everything much more real, much scarier. I was an actual part of this company, the English National Ballet, no less. And I was on the verge of my first real performance ever. I tried not to think about it too much. We had just moved into the theatre until opening night. One dress rehearsal followed another, and days were incredibly busy. With Alice's visit in a few days, there was a lot to look forward to. I hoped I wouldn't be dead on my feet by the time she got here.

I hurried down the busy street on my way to meet Nathan and Emily. Like I thought, I'd seen them a lot after that first time at the House. Since our schedules were so perfectly coordinated, I went out for tea with them for a few Fridays in a row, and a few times on Sunday too. I even worked privately with Emily when Alexandra, her usual instructor at the House, had to cancel a few of their sessions. She was first soloist and had to take part in extra rehearsals before opening night, so I happily stepped in. Our manager seemed pleased. It would be a good practice for me, he'd said. He required each of the company members to have some sort of experience with teaching, no matter how small. We never knew when we were going to need it.

The place they chose was as packed as the rest of the street, mostly with tourists, but also with parents such as Nathan, desperate to entertain their kids in those last days of the summer break. It was difficult to spot them, but eventually I did, in one corner of the restaurant. Nathan, who had just looked up, caught my eye and waved. He said something to Emily, whose eyes followed his. Her face lit up. My heart melted.

"I'm sorry I'm late," I breathed, and dropped my bag on a vacant chair between Nathan and me.

"As long as there is no grand crisis at the English National Ballet," he teased me, and handed me a menu.

I snorted. "_Some_ crisis. The costumes came back pink from the laundry. Don't ask."

He laughed. "Pink. Lovely."

"I heard it happened before. I don't know how they're going to fix it before we open," I said, and reached over to ruffle Emily's hair. She squirmed, giggling. "What have you guys been up to today?"

"Back to school shopping, mostly," Nathan replied. From his expression I gathered it wasn't a pleasant task.

"Are you excited about going back to school, Emily?"

"Not really. Although I did miss my ballet classes," she said thoughtfully.

"Right. I'll go and order if you two are ready," Nathan got up.

"It's my turn to pay," I reminded him as I reached for my purse. He made a face but took the money anyway. We watched him go. Then I looked away and found Emily staring at me inquisitively. I smiled at her. "What?"

"I'll be sad when you'll have to leave," she said. Her normally blissful expression clouded. Her statement caught me off-guard, and I suddenly realized the mistake I'd made. It was wrong to get attached to her so fast, to let her get attached. I didn't think I'd have to handle that kind of conversation so fast.

"You don't have to worry about that for a while, sweetie. I'm still here until next summer. Who knows, you might get tired of me long before that."

"Why can't you stay for longer?"

"Because the company might not want me for longer." It seemed like the simplest explanation.

"What if they do?"

"I don't know… if I want to stay after that," I said slowly, and immediately regretted it. It seemed to hurt her.

"Don't you like us?" she asked in a thin, heartbreaking voice, finally looking like the little girl that she was.

"Of course I do. You know I do."

"Then you could stay with us," she reasoned.

I felt like laughing, but I suspected it would hurt her even further. She was a smart kid. I could be open with her, I thought. "I don't think my boyfriend will like the fact I'm staying here longer than I should," I told her. It felt weird to explain this to a child.

She stared at me wide-eyed. "You never said you had a boyfriend."

"You never asked," I shrugged with feign indifference. The childish astonishment in her expression amused me.

"My friend Tilly had a boyfriend once, at the end of last year. I didn't like him. He always smelt like pickles," she said, wrinkling her nose. Then she tilted her head and gave me this inquiring look. "Does your boyfriend smell like pickles?"

"No," I giggled.

"Is he handsome?"

"_I_ think he is."

"Can I see a picture?"

"I don't have one on me. If you ever come to my place, I'll show you," I promised her.

"What's his name?"

"Edward." I couldn't help the smile that sneaked into my voice as I said his name. I hoped I wasn't blushing. I was sort of relieved Nathan wasn't there to witness my shame.

"My history teacher's name is Edward," she said, and I wasn't sure if that meant it was a good thing or not. "Did he give you this necklace?" Her eyes lingered on my heart-shaped locket.

"Yes, he did." I wrapped my fingers around it. The motion had become instinctive.

"Alright, all set," Nathan reclaimed his seat across from me and handed me the change.

"Daddy, Bella has a boyfriend," Emily informed him, her expression half disgusted, half awed.

His eyes widened for a split second, with clear horror. Pretty soon he composed himself and scowled at her. "Emily, what did we say about respecting people's privacy?"

"_She_ brought it up," she argued. He looked up at me suspiciously, as if he didn't believe her.

"Guilty as charged," I laughed. "She wanted to know why I can't stay."

He shook his head, displeased. "Well, little one, if you keep pestering Bella with questions, she won't even keep up with us until Christmas," he mock-warned her, poking her side. She yelped and squirmed away from his grip. He mouthed an apology over her head. I dismissed it with a shake of my head. I was used to it by now.

Emily clearly wanted to know more, but Nathan was intent on not letting her have her way. I decided to go along with his scheme. I didn't mind answering her questions about Edward, as random as they were, but talking about him made his absence more real, and I didn't want to bear the consequences of it later in the privacy of my apartment.

When our drinks arrived, I sipped my coke and asked, "What are you guys up to this weekend?"

"We're going to spend a few days with my parents," Nathan replied. "We won't be back until next Wednesday," he added, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, it means we'll miss your opening night."

"That's okay. There'll be others."

"Do you have any plans for the weekend?"

"If I could, I'd sleep from Friday to opening night," I joked. "My friend Alice is coming over and she's… exuberant."

"What's exuberant?" asked Emily. Ever the teacher, Nathan plunged into a long explanation until our pizza arrived.

Since I had to go back into another short rehearsal later that afternoon, we wandered around Leicester Square together to kill the time. Emily didn't let go of my hand as she led the way. Nathan kept close by, ready to pounce on her if she brought up the boyfriend issue again. It was rather amusing to watch.

We passed by one of those tourists shops full of London memorabilia. It was no different than any other shop I'd seen for the passed month, but now my eyes settled on something that made me halt. There was a postcard stand by the entrance. I remembered Alice's promise before our final recital. It was true she'd be here soon, but it didn't mean I couldn't send her one to New York.

"Hang on a second, guys, I need to – "

Emily's eyes followed mine. "Are you going to send one to your boyfriend?"

Nathan's brows furrowed in disapproval. "Emily – "

She ignored him. "Can I choose one? Please?"

"I need three, actually, and yes, you can choose them," I smiled at her, and gave her a gentle push forward.

"I'm so sorry about all this," Nathan told me when she was a safe distant away, checking each postcard carefully.

"Really, don't worry about it."

"My mother always said she'd be impossible to restrain without a mother. I'm beginning to see her point now. Sometimes it feels as if I'll never succeed to make a lady out of her," he half-joked. The frustration in his eyes was clear, as well as that profound, unexplained pain.

In those weeks I'd known them, I'd never brewed enough courage to ask what happened to Emily's mother. I could tell quite clearly it was a painful subject, for Nathan at least, and figured that if he wanted to tell me about it, he would have. Emily had hardly mentioned her mom when it was just the two of us, which was also strange. At some point I began to wonder if I even wanted to know what happened to her. From the way they were behaving – as if they had no one in the universe but one another – I sensed it wasn't going to be a pleasant story.

"Well, if you care to hear a stranger's opinion, I think you're doing a great job so far," I assured him, and took his hand without thinking. He gasped at the contact, and his eyes flew to meet mine. The shock I found there made me pull my hand back. "Sorry," I mumbled, my cheeks flaring.

He murmured an apology of his own and looked away. I half waited for him to turn and face me, and utter another apology, like he'd always done. I'd always teased him he was apologizing too much, even when it was unnecessary. Only this time, he said nothing. I kept walking, my thoughts a blur. I couldn't figure out what I'd done wrong. All I wanted was to comfort him, but by what I'd found in his eyes, by that unusual silence that followed, I felt as if I'd just crossed a forbidden line.

But before I got a chance to question it, I heard my name being called. "Bella!"

I looked up. Emily had three postcards in her hands, and she waved them above her head as if to catch my attention. I threw Nathan a look. He still looked somewhat stricken, but he nodded me on wordlessly. I walked over to her. "Thanks, sweetie. Here, you can pay for them," I said, handing her the change from our lunch. I watched her as she headed into the small shop, and as she handed the money to a smiling woman behind the counter. I didn't look at Nathan until Emily was safely back, happily skipping between us. I stole a glance at him while she was chattering. His expression was more reserved now, and I found myself wondering for the meaning of it. I tried not to think about it as they walked me back to the theatre.

I still had about half an hour before the rehearsal, so I took out the postcards Emily bought for me. She chose three different angles of London at dusk. One had the Big Ben and Parliament buildings. Another had a view to the London Bridge. The third one, the prettiest, was a gorgeous cap of the London Eye and a glimpse of the Big Ben and the Parliament buildings at sundown. This one was for Edward, I decided, and put it aside. I found a purple pen in my bag and wrote Anya and Alice's addresses on the first two postcards.

_Giselle opens next week_, I wrote. _TERRIFIED! Hope you're well. Hugs, Bella x_

I wrote the same on both postcards before I brought my attention to the last one. Carefully, I wrote down the address of our place in New York. I stared at the blank space thoughtfully for a moment before I even knew how to say everything I needed to tell him in the shortest way I could.

"What are you doing, hon?" Ivan showed up out of nowhere as soon as I signed my name at the bottom of the postcard.

"Just writing home."

"Don't forget to send my love for Prince Charming," he said, batting his lashes.

"Sure, sure," I rolled my eyes. I picked the three postcards and stuck them in a book I had in my bag. Now I just needed to remember to get them sent.

xoxox

The day I met Alice was a proper summer day. I met her in a small café just off Oxford Circus, away from the bustling crowds and a short distance away from their hotel. She looked tanner than I'd ever seen her before, and it stood out even more with the gorgeous white sundress she had on. Her skin had this exotic olive shade now from the time she'd spent in the sun, probably in Greece. I felt paler than normally in comparison. Despite my fears, summertime in London was almost the real thing, unlike Forks. And yet, I spent nearly all day indoors in rehearsals, so I'd hardly seen any sunshine at all.

It was as if we'd never separated at all. After gushing about how properly English I looked, she plunged into an elaborate tale about how their trip had been so far, places she loved, places she'd never go back to, and of course, the time she spent with Jasper in Greece.

"This has been the most amazing summer, but I must admit I can't wait to be home. I miss everyone so much, and aww, Rose must be huge now! She's got, what, about two months left? I got her so many baby things that I'm not sure how it's all going to fit! I'll have to get another suitcase, probably more. Oh my _God_, I _still_ can't believe they're going to have a _baby_!" She stopped to squeal. "Will you be able to come and see it?"

"Probably not," I replied, my sadness resurfacing. "I already told Emmett."

"Aww, but that's fine, silly. We'll send you tons of pictures. And you could see her as soon as you're back! I bet she won't be much to look at at first anyway; they're always pink and wrinkled when they're born even though people think they're precious." She made a face and continued. "I bet Esme is ecstatic though. She's going to set a camp in New York until the baby is at least three months old! God, it feels like I haven't spoken to Aunt Esme in _ages_! And Edward – I think I haven't spoken to him in nearly two weeks. I'm such a bad cousin."

"I just talked to him a few days ago," I said. We spoke less frequently now, because I spent most days rehearsing and he had two jobs to keep. It was tough. I wondered if I could ever get over this devastating need for him. Then again I didn't want to get over it. It was the only reminder that he was still mine, waiting for me at home.

"How is he?"

"Anya got him another job, so it keeps him busy. But other than that… he's not doing so well, I think," I confessed. I'd suspected as much for a while, now more than before in our recent conversations. He was pulling off a good act, but I heard beyond his supposedly cheerful tone. I hadn't shared my suspicions with anyone yet, so it was strange to express my thoughts aloud. "I don't think he's handling it very well."

Alice shook her head. "He misses you. It's understandable."

"It's more than that. He tries to hide it, but he sounds really depressed. He doesn't admit it, of course, but something in his voice is just… off. I'm pretty sure something is wrong because Emmett apparently had to interfere. He told Edward he needed to go out more."

"Which is true. I would have done the same if I were there."

"I just…" I sighed. "I feel so guilty. I'm having a great time here. I met some amazing friends. And then I talk to him and I know how unhappy he is – "

"Don't be silly," she cut me off. "He's probably just bored. He'll get over it as soon as school starts. I'll have a talk with him when I'm back, okay? Now stop frowning. You'll get wrinkles ahead of your time," she reproached me. I chuckled without humor. "Seriously, honey, don't worry about it. Now," she said, reaching out for a piece of toast from the basket between us. She put some butter and strawberry marmalade on it, and handed it to me. I frowned but took it anyway. She didn't speak until I bit into it. "Tell me more about where those friends of yours took you to make you look so enviously gorgeous."

I laughed and gave in, and told her about Ivan and Jenna and the places they'd taken me so far. Alice decided she wanted to meet them, and she made me text Jenna and set some plans for tonight. But even Alice's diversions weren't enough to wipe away that concern that suddenly shadowed on my bliss.

xoxox

On the day _Giselle_ opened, I was calmer than I expected. I actually slept the entire night before, which was kind of shocking to me to find out, but I guess that between panic and exhaustion, exhaustion ruled. Alice and her parents left two days before we opened. She was upset she couldn't stay for opening night, but her dad had to be back at work in a few days, and he couldn't afford the delay. She made sure to take a bunch of programs with her. I gave them to her with a frown. I didn't want to think whom she was going to distribute them to. I guessed I should be grateful she didn't ask me to personalize them.

It seemed as if the phone hadn't stopped ringing since last night. My parents called the night before to wish me luck – both afraid to miss me in the morning because of the time difference. Nathan and Emily called from his mother's house in Sussex to tell me how sorry they were they wouldn't be able to be there tonight, and that they'd come to one of the matinees the following week. Nathan was back to his normal self now, and I could hear that the few days away from the city had done him good. Carlisle, who was on his way home from a night shift, sent Esme and Sophie's regards as well. Edward set his alarm to four A.M so he could speak to me directly instead of leaving me a message.

And so, as my ego got quite a boost from all my loved ones, my distress sort of dissipated, only to resurface in double force as soon as I went through the stage door a few hours later. My hands were actually shaking when I signed my name on the attendance sheet by the door. I made it to the dressing room in one piece, and everyone there was in such high spirits that I didn't have a choice but take part in the lively conversation as we all got dressed and put our makeup on and fixed each other's hair.

But when Jenna – with Ivan on her heel – came to check on me twenty minutes or so before curtain, my panic was rising again. She rushed forward, knelt by my chair, and gave me a hug. "Don't worry, mate, it's going to be grand!"

"Easy for you to say, two years later," I grumbled.

"I must say, Bella accepts it much more coolly than you did that first time around, love," Ivan told Jenna. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms across his chest. "She threw up all night before her first opening," he told me, and I felt my stomach lurch.

"Maybe you shouldn't have said it. She looks kind of green," said Jenna, and her eyes darkened with concern as she scrutinized my face.

"I'm fine," I assured her, and tried to focus on breathing through my nose.

Ivan walked into the room and stopped behind my chair. He began to massage my shoulders. "Long, even breaths," he reminded me, his voice soothing. "It's going to be loads of fun. We'll go up there, we'll do our thing, and later when you survive it, we'll take you out for a drink."

"I don't do alcohol very well," I rasped.

"By the time he finishes with you, you will," Jenna laughed. I was too distracted to stop and question if she meant it seriously or not.

Slowly, gradually, Ivan's hands stopped moving on my shoulders. I looked up at him and flashed him a tiny grateful smile. "Okay?" he asked, and I saw the worry beyond his supposedly calm stare.

"Yes. Thank you."

"It's going to be fine, love," he assured me, and leaned over to drop a kiss on the top of my head.

I closed my eyes, then slowly opened them, forcing the nausea away. It would be fine, I told myself fiercely. This was what I'd been working for for nearly sixteen years, literally two thirds of my life. This was why I'd come here and left everything behind – my family, my friends, Edward – this was my dream. It _had_ to be fine.

And fortunately, it was. It ended as soon as it had begun, or so it felt. When we finally had to take our places backstage, I suddenly blacked out. I forgot every entrance and exit, and for one dreadful moment I feared I'd lose my way backstage altogether. It wasn't until the second act I felt myself loosening, and by the time I really began to enjoy myself, it was over. When I held hands with fellow members of the company as we all took our final bow, an enormous sense of relief washed over me. I did it. From there on, it could only get better.

"Come on, come on, let's go," Ivan was fidgeting at the doorway of the dressing room. Three of the dancers in various stages of undress with whom I shared the room shrieked when he bellowed from the outside, but he seemed used to it, because when poked his head in, he very dramatically put his hand on his eyes. "I only need Bella!" he clarified, and kept one hand over his eyes as he ordered me out with his other hand. "Your first stage door experience, you wouldn't want to miss it!"

"No one will recognize me," I protested, but followed him out of the room anyway. I said a hasty goodnight to the others from over my shoulder, and let him tow me down the hall.

"They only recognize the principals, silly. They'll know you from your portrait."

The hallways were in their usual post-show chaos, one I'd been used to from our performances in Juilliard. Ivan knew his way well, better than I did, and we were by the door in no time. We said goodnight to Leroy, the doorman, and Ivan held the door open for me.

The crowd at the stage door after my final recital in Juilliard was twice as big and twice as loud, but not as intimidating. When I stepped out into the chilly night, I froze. Most of them were people my parents' age, some older, holding the hands of younger kids, probably their grandchildren. They formed their own queue as if there was a fence separating them from the members of the company. It wasn't the usual mayhem one would find in any West End production around, and I was grateful for that, at least. I didn't think I could handle anything grander than that.

"Come on, Bella, they won't bite! Well, some might, if you ask nicely…"

Like Ivan had said, most people stuck with the principals. Some minor members of the company managed to slip away unnoticed since no one minded them. I wished I could do the same, but Ivan had his arm wrapped tightly around mine. He insisted I'd stay, just to get the flavor of it.

A loud clamor rose when Francois, one of the principal dancers, stepped out. I wondered how long it would take me to act as coolly as he did. He accepted a huge bouquet of roses with a gracious smile, and even posed for pictures. I shook my head. He looked so professional, so into it. I still had so much to learn.

"Excuse me, Miss Swan?"

I looked up, a little startled, at the sound of my name. A dark woman in a gorgeous cream-colored coat was smiling at me. I actually had to do a double take to assure myself her smile was even meant for me.

"Would you mind signing my program?"

I was still too speechless to respond. "She'd _love_ to!" Ivan declared, and shoved a silver sharpie into my hand.

The motion shook me to life. "Of course," I mumbled. The woman held up her program to me.

Ivan squealed. "_Eeeeep_! Your first autograph! This is so exciting! I have to take a picture," he asserted, and pulled out his cell phone. Luckily, the woman didn't seem to mind him as he fussed around us, snapping more pictures on his phone.

"You're new with the company, aren't you?" she asked me.

"Yes, I am," I replied, replacing the cap on the pen.

"Best of luck." And with a flash of another smile, she was gone. I stared at her for good five minutes before I even realized what had just happened.

When we finally caught up with Jenna, Ivan refused to move anywhere until he told her everything about my first autograph. He even insisted on showing her the pictures he took. She shook her head, laughing. "He did the same thing to me, too, so don't feel bad about it. Be lucky he didn't send it to your parents or something right away."

"I would have sent them to her boyfriend, if she'd so kindly given me his email," said Ivan, pinning me with a significant look.

"Dream on," I giggled. I wouldn't submit Edward to Ivan's lustful fantasies.

Some of our colleagues were still around, so we said goodnight to everyone who was still there. One of the principals was having a small get together at his loft, and we said we might pop in later. I was so tired I was ready to collapse right there and then on the sidewalk, but adrenaline was still buzzing in my veins and I knew I wouldn't be able to close my eyes now even if I tried. I doubted I'd be able to last long enough to attend that party, but I didn't say anything. I didn't want to give Ivan a chance to come up with a strategy to get me there.

"So are we going drinking?" Jenna asked as we crossed the street.

"No," I said. "We're going to dinner. I'm starving."

With our arms wrapped around one another's, we headed to Leicester Square to join the bustling crowd. Despite the crisp night air, I felt warm. And with adrenaline still buzzing in my head, I smiled to myself in a rare moment of confidence. Everything would be fine. I could definitely do this.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve – Edward**

Everything was ready for my surprise trip to London. I had my flight booked, and a ticket for _Giselle_ for the night before Bella's birthday. Despite my student discount while booking both, the total amount was still ridiculously expensive, especially considering I couldn't stay more than a few days. I tried not to dwell on it, telling myself my sanity had no price.

While at it, I also booked a flight to Seattle, meaning to spend a few days at home before school started. Emmett was actually in favor of that idea – the change of atmosphere would be good for me, he said. I really hoped it would. Despite my efforts to put it out of my mind, to do other things, to stay busy, nothing worked. Everything about New York reminded me of Bella – every café and bookstore and a bench in the park. A city filled with memories. I knew that Forks probably had other memories in store, but I tried not to think about it. It would make my parents happy, to have me home. And I could use the fresh air.

My father came to pick me up from the airport. My mother had an exhibition opening this weekend, and she had a lot of work at the gallery. He didn't bring Sophie with him. At nine, she was tiring out much faster than before. She was still rather well, but my parents didn't want to strain her when unnecessary. It was sad to see the effect of old age take over her so completely. Each time we visited, it seemed to get worse. It was hard to believe she was the same dog Emmett could hold in his palm when she was a puppy. I sort of realized now why my parents never wanted to have a dog. I didn't want to think of the tragedy – yet another blow to my family – the loss of her would inflict.

"Your mom might go back to New York with you."

My father's comment, breaking into my grim reverie, caught me by surprise. "Oh?"

"She wants to see Rosalie, and after all the strain this new exhibition is causing her, I thought she needed a few days off."

"That's a good idea," I said distractedly.

As if he suspected there was something off about my voice, he threw a side glance at me before bringing his attention to the road. "School starts soon," he said. "You've got everything set?"

"Yes, although I'm going to miss out on a few days," I replied quietly, and sort of fretfully. I wasn't sure if Emmett informed them with the most recent piece of news I had dropped on him. He was furious with me when I told him about booking my trip to London. He thought it was the stupidest thing I could ever have done. Among other names, he called me pathetic and immature. I did my best to block him out.

"How come?"

Apparently, he told them nothing. I guessed that was his revenge, leaving it to me to break this to them. I grumbled inwardly. And he dared calling _me_ immature. I was glad my father's attention was still on the road. I didn't think I'd have the nerve to say it to his face. "I'm going to London for a few days, to see Bella."

"Why so close to the beginning of the semester?"

His voice was restrained, showing no hint of surprise or anger, which, of course, was worse than showing any emotion at all. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "Her birthday is on September thirteenth, so I…" I let my voice trail. Speaking it out, it sounded so pitiful. Maybe Emmett was right. I _was_ pathetic.

"You know how your mother and I feel about both you and Emmett missing on school while unnecessary," he said quietly. He didn't have to raise his voice to make me feel awful. I'd known this tone – he'd used it on Emmett countless of times when we were kids. He'd rarely used it on me, but when he had, it only had one effect, like Emmett's intimidating glare.

"I need to see her," I said in a small voice as if that was some sort of an excuse. God, I needed to see her so badly.

My father's only response was a sigh. He didn't say anything for a long moment and I really hoped it meant he was going to drop it. I should have known better though. "Emmett says you're not handling things well."

"Emmett needs to keep his opinions to himself," I snapped, suddenly impatient. What did they want from me? What did they expect? Did they really want me to bounce around and whistle showtunes from now until she was back?

"He's worried about you. We all are. We didn't say anything the last time we came to see you, we hoped it was just a matter of time, but now I see you and..." His voice trailed off as he heaved another sigh. "I don't want to think what could have happened under different circumstances."

As in her not coming back, or us breaking up? Both options made me shudder.

"I know you're tired of hearing this, but we're only trying to help."

I _was_ tired of hearing that. It was my turn to sigh. "I'm fine. I promise. I have it under control. I just want people to stop reminding me of it all the time."

And as if he got the hint, he didn't say another word about it. The rest of the drive was relatively quiet. He asked some trivial questions about my jobs, on which I answered the best I could without sounding detached. I thought he didn't notice, although with my father I could never tell. He wasn't as blunt as Emmett, who said what he thought when he thought it without thinking of the consequences. My father would keep it all in until the right moment came. Then he'd throw remarks on stuff when you least expected them. His tactic was even more dangerous than my mother's.

As we passed through the police station, I spotted Charlie leaving the two stories building, heading to the cruiser with another cop. The station was just off the main road, so he didn't notice us as we passed. I tried to read his face for any hint of abandon his daughter's absence had inflicted, but we were too far off, and darkness was slowly descending. Maybe I'd go see him tomorrow. I might even ask him for dinner at our place. Bella would have loved it.

"He misses her too, you know." I didn't realize my father's eyes followed mine. "But you can't stop living. It won't work no matter how hard you try. Life goes on. I think we all learned this lesson the hard way."

His voice was distant, and sort of melancholic. I knew he was thinking about his father – my grandfather. Shame and guilt washed over me as I absorbed his words. Mourning the loss of the girl I loved suddenly felt so childish, so selfish. In just a few months, I'd get her back. Death was an inseparable part of life, but it was indefinite and unaltered. And my father was never going to see his father again. He was never coming back. But Bella was. Despite the agony of her absence, she _was_ coming back.

He didn't say anything to me when the house suddenly became visible through the trees. He didn't ask me to behave or to pull off an act for my mother's sake. But he didn't have to. I'd already made up my mind. I wouldn't spend my days here sulking. I owed my parents more than that. And my father was right – life did go on. And from now until she was back, I was determined to make this my new philosophy.

xoxox

Sometimes it was easier than others. With my parents around, it was easy to follow my newest plan. My mother accepted the news of my upcoming trip with certain submission. It was as if we had this silent agreement between us: I'd try to be on my best behavior, and they wouldn't resent me for ditching school so I could see my girlfriend. Both of them tried very hard to keep away from any subject that had the tiniest association with Bella, and I appreciated their attempted sympathy, as tedious as it seemed at times. I spent time with Sophie. I helped my mother in the kitchen. I fixed things in the garden my father hadn't got the chance to do until now.

It was in the rare moments I allowed myself to be alone when cracks began to form in the shield I placed around my heart. But even then, I never allowed myself to stoop back into the depressive state I'd been at in those first weeks. I discovered that hiking helped me clear my mind, so one morning when my parents were both at work, I left Sophie to nap on the sofa, packed myself a few sandwiches for lunch, and headed for the forest.

I knew where I wanted to go. Bella and I stumbled upon the meadow two summers ago while we were hiking. It had been our secret spot, our private haven, ever since. I didn't want to find it out of some sadomasochistic tendency. My mind needed a refuge, and it looked like the best place to seek it at.

It looked glorious, as I had always had. I dropped my backpack on the ground and sprawled on the grass, trying to crash as little of the wild flowers as possible. I leaned my head on my folded arms and stared up. There were patches of blue in the cloud-covered sky. It had never ceased to amaze me how no one else had ever spotted this piece of paradise; no one except for Bella and me. If I squinted, I could almost picture us laying there side by side, whispering about everything and nothing in particular, stealing one last kiss before a sudden drizzle would send us home. And now it was just me, holding on to her phantom image, wishing she could be here with me. Soon, I thought. It wasn't too long now.

A soft rustle in the direction of the trees made me sit up with a start. Footsteps, I thought; gaining closer. I sprang to my feet, listening to the sound of branches breaking beneath what was definitely approaching feet. What the hell? Emmett was in New York, so there was no risk of him stalking me here. Had someone else found this place in our absence? Or worse – was it some kind of an animal? Were there big animals in this part of the forest?

But it was something much more dangerous than an animal, I realized as I watched the small figure coming out of the trees. Once the initial shock had gone, disappointment hit. I was kind of baffled that someone else had found out about this place – _our_ place – but she didn't give me enough time to mourn the loss.

"I knew I was going to find you here," said Alice, not hyper for once. I was a little surprised to find her there, not here in the meadow, but at home. I didn't know she was due home today. Showed how connected to reality I'd been these days.

With no further words, she came over and put her arms around me. I held her tightly. I didn't realize how much I missed her until she showed up here. And knowing she'd just come from London sent my determination crumpling again. But I felt strangely bolder against it. I _would_ get myself together, no matter what it took.

"When did you get back?" I asked, slowly pulling away.

"Yesterday afternoon."

"How did you know where to find me?"

"Bella told me that if you were going to Forks, you'd probably be here," was her soft reply. I was taken aback by her tone. She wasn't so gentle with me since that day I discovered Bella was her roommate, and the mess that followed this revelation.

"You can't fool her, you know. She's worried about you. She thinks something's wrong with you." She held my gaze, so I couldn't look down guiltily like I wanted to do. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I sighed and turned away from her. Just when I was so set on letting it go, on trying to do better, she was going to bring it all up. "There's nothing to talk about. There isn't anything you don't know."

"You miss her." It wasn't a question, so I didn't answer. She came to face me again. "I know you're sick from being told what to do, but you have to get a grip, Edward, or it's going to pull you under."

"It's already too late," I mumbled. I could almost feel the way my confidence in my new decision was dropping to the floor. Crashing would be a more accurate term, actually.

"It's never too late. It's only two months since she's gone."

"It feels like so much more than that."

"Aww, honey, I know. But if you keep thinking like that, it won't make time go faster. More importantly, it won't bring her back."

I nodded. I knew all that. I heard it from everyone around me, I'd tried to tell myself that. I knew what I wanted to ask her, but I wasn't sure if I should. "How – how is she?"

Some unknown emotion flickered through her stare; I thought it was guilt. "She looks really well. She's happy. But she's worried that you're unhappy and it affects her, whether she knows it or not. Look," she said a bit more urgently now and took my hand. "If you don't do it for yourself, do it for her. Promise me you'll try, at least."

"I _am_ trying," I said, but suddenly it felt impossible.

As if she could somehow detect the helplessness that washed over me all of a sudden, she shook her head. "Don't worry. I'm back. Your days of self-pity are officially over."

I wondered how she'd feel about me going to London, but I kept quiet. Since I wasn't sure with which side she'd stick, I preferred to keep my mouth shut. I didn't feel like being the target to Alice's livid attack just now, if one should take place.

"Now come on. Enough with the emo stuff," she said, and the sudden practicality in her voice terrified me. "You're only making things worse by staying here."

I looked down at her, nearly dizzy with unexpected relief. Alice would know how to handle things. She would never let me sink back to my nearly catatonic state. "How long are you here for?"

"I haven't booked my flight back to New York yet. I thought we could go back together," she cuddled against me while conspicuously towing me after her back into the depth of the forest. "I heard your mom might tag along."

"Yes, she wants to see how Rose is doing. She doesn't believe Emmett's reports on the phone," I rolled my eyes. Who would have thought my mother could get so paranoid? I guessed it was a side effect of her new role as a grandma-to-be.

"I can't _wait_ to see Rosalie," Alice squealed. "But I'm glad you and I can have some quality time first. I missed you," she elbowed me as we maneuvered through the thick vegetation.

"I missed you too, Munchkin."

She spoke endlessly as we made our way back to the road. She told me all about the places she'd been to in Europe. I seriously hoped she didn't bring along all the photos she'd taken, because I wasn't sure I could sit through a retelling of this. That being said, as she spoke, I could feel my spirits rising already. I asked her about her plans now, when she didn't have to go back to school. She meant to set a meeting with her modern dance instructor in Juilliard to discuss her future options. She didn't seem as terrified as I'd been if I were in her position. That's why she was Alice, I guessed. She wasn't afraid of anything.

Finally, there was a break in the trees ahead, and we were back on the side of the road. Alice's Golf was parked right after my car.

"I've got something for you," she flashed her impish grin at me.

Oh, no. "Alice, you didn't have to get me anything."

She dismissed me with a wave of her arms. The car keys in her hand jingled. "Don't worry, I didn't spend anything."

"Please tell me you didn't get me some sea creature from Greece or anything," I mock-groaned, although it wouldn't surprise me. When we were little and she'd spent the summer with her parents in the Riviera, she had found a dying starfish and somehow sneaked it into her suitcase without her parents noticing, to bring as a gift to Emmett and me. We had sworn to secrecy, but it hardly helped when the thing made our room reek after only a few days, and my mom found out and made us throw it out.

To my relief, Alice scoffed. "_Please_. Like I'd spend the little time I had with Jasper over searching for a gift for _you_. You should know better."

"Well, what, then?"

"I'll give it to you at home," she smiled angelically as she unlocked her car. I couldn't do much but follow her lead home.

xoxox

"I thought that since you can't be there with her, you might want to have this," Alice explained, her voice still oddly soft. We were sprawled on our stomachs with her gift – a program of _Giselle_ – resting on the bed between us. I ran a finger along the elaborated calligraphy of the title on the cover, just gazing at it. I knew she was expecting me to say something, to thank her, at least. But I couldn't. I was unprepared for the intensity of emotion that hit me when I saw what she got me. I very nearly burst into tears. It was all kinds of ridiculous. Bella's absence was making an emotional wreck out of me. Alice was right. I _had_ to get a grip.

"That's hardly the best part, honey," she said, and gently slipped it from beneath my fingers. I watched her as she flipped through the pages. I knew exactly what she was after, and I found myself holding my breath. Impatience mixed with anticipation settled in as my heart began to hammer in my chest. Then she stopped and placed it back on the bed with a beaming smile. "Where's Waldo?"

A little anxious, I looked down at the page she'd stopped on. I spotted her portrait immediately, even though there were about a dozen other unfamiliar faces smiling at me all around her. She had her hair pulled back, like the rest of the female dancers on the page. It made her eyes look huge. The familiar glimmer in them was visible even in black and white. The tiniest smile curled at the corner of her lips, coy and tender and somewhat restrained comparing with some other dancers around her, as if she didn't feel comfortable to sit in front of the probing gaze of the camera. I barely took notice of her name, _Isabella Swan_, curling below her photo, or the short bio that was printed just underneath it. I only saw her.

Somewhere at the back of my mind, I remembered Alice was still there, probably watching me, but I barely noticed her now. I brushed my finger against the portrait. It covered her face almost entirely, which reminded me of her rant about her being an insignificant chorus girl. I didn't care if that's what she was. I had never been more proud of her than in this moment. Looking down at the program, an actual program of an actual production, another swell of emotion hit me full force. She really made it. I was feeling so many things at once I thought my heart would burst.

"I've got another one for Charlie," Alice's voice cut through my tumble of emotions. I looked away from the photo reluctantly. She was smiling at me, but it was a different sort of smile. "Maybe we can drive up to the station and give it to him."

"Sure," I agreed, still in a haze, and got off the bed, meaning to retrieve my shoes.

"And _then_ we can go to Port Angeles and you can ask me to dinner for being such a devoted cousin," she knelt on the bed in front of me and pinched my cheek. I protested and pulled back, laughing; my first laugh in days. I felt as if I was waking up.

"Thanks, Alice." It applied on so many levels.

She squealed again, and leaped off the bed, nearly crashing into me in the process. "_Eeeeep_! I love making people happy!"

xoxox

We spent the weekend in Forks so that we could attend the opening of the exhibition in my mother's gallery. Towards the end of our visit I felt much better, probably because Alice was making sure to distract me all the while. Fortunately, she got the news about my upcoming trip peacefully, or at least pretended to. Either way, I was grateful to have at least her approval, while no one else seemed to be thinking I should go.

I spent the first week back in school chasing teachers, telling them of my imminent absence due to some family emergency. I hated lying like that, but if _that_ wasn't an emergency, I didn't know what was. It was difficult to keep things from Bella when I spoke to her three days before my trip, but she sounded so tired I didn't think she heard half the things I told her anyway.

That afternoon, I knocked on Claire's door. I did it from time to time since I got back from Forks. She was easy to be friends with, as erratic as Alice had been. She made things easier on me without even knowing it.

She opened the door in a haste, her hair wild around her. She wore a plaid red and black shirt over a white tanktop, both of them disheveled as if she'd been crawling underneath her sofa. Knowing her, I'd better not ask. "Oh, hey!"

It always amused me how surprised she seemed to find me on her doorstep, as if each time she was sure she'd scared me away and I would never come back. Now was no different. I couldn't help but snigger at her expression. "Am I interrupting you?"

"Of course not, come in!"

Her coffee table was a mess of paperwork, a chaos I was familiar with by now. Screenplays, most likely. Since she came to live in New York City, she'd been trying out for every production known on Broadway and off it, to no avail so far. Sometimes I'd run lines with her. I was horrible at it, but she didn't mind it. She seemed to be getting a kick out of making fun of me. There were more screenplays on the sofa. She cleared them aside so we could take a seat.

"You have another audition?"

"Yup, this weekend." She gave me a look, and her smile got an inch wider. "I really think I have a chance to get this one." We both chuckled darkly, because she said the same thing about the three previous auditions, and she was still unemployed. I liked her attitude, and stubbornness. It was a tough business to become a part of, and I liked how she wasn't giving up; either on the profession or on herself. "What are you up to?"

"I came to ask you for a favor."

"Oh?"

"I'm going away for a few days, and I wanted to ask you to keep an eye on my place while I'm gone."

"Sure, no problem." She didn't say anything for a moment, searching my face. "How come you're not asking your brother again?"

I'd asked Emmett to do it when I went to Forks. This time, I thought I'd better not. "He's not pleased with my plans. I don't want to tick him off."

"It's unlike you to ditch school two weeks after it started," she noted, and I thought how amazing it was she knew me so well already. "It must be a big thing."

She wouldn't ask, but the query was there in her stare all the same. I knew she guessed it, that she was seeking my confirmation. "I'm going to London for a few days." When she didn't say anything, I sighed, and gave her the same feeble explanation I'd given everyone else so far. "I need to see her."

"You don't owe me any explanations. I'm not judging you."

"Well, everyone else is, so I thought I'd just provide you with the same justification I do everyone."

"I won't judge you," she assured me. "I know exactly how you feel."

"How can you know exactly what I feel?"

I didn't mean it to come out as bluntly as it had, but she didn't miss a beat while replying, anyway. "Because I had to leave someone once. Someone I wasn't sure I was able to be apart from." Her expression became blank, and somewhat guarded. There was something almost tragic in her stare. I sensed a deep wound, deeper than mine, something time seemed unable to heal.

"Does it have anything to do with those bad memories you mentioned you had from London?" I asked carefully. I didn't want to pry, but since she brought it up, I thought she wouldn't mind answering. It was unlike her to appear so morbid. I couldn't help but wonder at the reason behind it.

For the first few moments, I thought she'd tell me to get lost and kick me out of her apartment. I meant to apologize for not minding my own business, but words froze halfway up my throat when I looked up at her. She just sat there, staring ahead, at nothing in particular, it seemed. When she started speaking, it was so sudden that I started when her voice broke the silence.

"I don't know if I told you I studied theatre in London. It's always been this dream of mine, to get to London and become this wonderful actress. I was young and naïve and I thought this sort of thing came easily. During my first year in a college in Chicago, my advisor told me about a student exchange program the theatre department in my college did with the University of the Arts in London. It sounded perfect; just what I wanted.

"But when I finally got it, the more I progressed with my studies, the more I realized it wasn't exactly what I thought it would be. I enjoyed reading about the history of the theatre. I preferred the work backstage to actual acting. At some point I even thought of dropping it altogether. It felt like such a waste of time, and of money. And then…" She paused, and a wry smile curled on her lips. Her cheeks flushed bright pink as she let out a soft laugh. "And then I made the mistake of dating my Shakespeare tutor."

I just gaped at her, unsure how I was supposed to respond. I might be naïve and inexperienced, but to the best of my understanding, this issue had become so taboo in academic institutions it only happened in fiction. Besides, she didn't seem the type.

A bitter laugh escaped her, as if she knew what I was thinking. "I know, I was surprised as well, but it was instant attraction, on both sides. It scared the hell out of me. He wasn't much older than me, just about four years. It was his first teaching position. He was brilliant and funny and he seemed like the only one who understood what I've been going through. We became really close friends at first, and from there on, it was an easy way to an actual affair. Too easy, almost. It was a huge risk for both of us. I could lose my place in the program, and he could lose his job, his reputation. He's just started working on his PhD then, so if anyone found out…" Her voice trailed off as she heaved a sigh. "I didn't care about myself as much as I did about him. I wanted out anyway."

"I'm not sure I see the problem yet."

"Have you ever tried to have a secret affair? It's tougher than it looks."

I laughed darkly. It seemed so long ago, when Bella and I tried to hide from the rest of the world, especially from Alice, and the chaos that attempted hiding ensued.

"It was irrational and irresponsible, but I loved him. We planned our whole lives together, always half joking, half not. Everything was always sort of on hold. As long as we were both attending the same institution, we couldn't go public. He wouldn't let me quit school. He said I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I did. He was such a dork," she shook her head laughing, but the sound was wrong.

"And then what?" I didn't know if I was in any position to ask, but I couldn't help it. I sensed that there was more to it, much more.

"And then… things happened, and I had to leave." Her expression became guarded again, so I knew she was editing. "Leaving him was the hardest thing I've ever done. I never finished school – I still had one more semester to complete – and he was right. I regret it. But there was no choice at the time. We lost touch – well, that's not accurate; I haven't contacted him ever since.

"I moved to Scotland, and worked backstage in a tiny theatre in Edinburgh for a while. That was fun, actually. It took my mind off things, and I gained some work experience, which was great. When I grew tired of that, I wandered around Europe for a while, and eventually got back to the States, thinking I could pursue a career here. That's pretty much everything," she finally let her eyes meet mine. The amount of pain I found there was overwhelming.

"And you haven't heard from him since then?"

"Nope. For nearly seven years. I don't resent him for that. On the contrary, I sort of appreciate it. I told him I'd contact him when I could, and I knew he wouldn't try to track me himself simply because I asked him not to. He was that kind of guy. I don't even know if he's still teaching there, if he's still in London, if he ended up getting that PhD he's been working on. At the time, it felt right. I told myself I'd get over it. But the more time passes, the more I wonder if it's true."

"Why not looking for him then?"

"I'll never set foot in that city again," she said, her eyes hard on mine. "For all I know, he's happily married by now."

"You can't know that, Claire."

"I don't want to know," she said stubbornly. "I'm not coming back there."

"If you think he's moved on," I said slowly, "Why don't you?"

"Because like I said, it's tougher than it looks. This is why I understand you, ditching school to see your girl." She smiled at me now, but I thought I saw a hint of tears in the corners of her eyes. "You never even told me her name."

"Bella," I said, trying not to cringe as her name escaped me in a whisper. "Her name is Bella."

"Well, I hope London is kinder to you than it has been to me," she smiled again, although it still seemed distant-looking. "And you have nothing to worry about. Of course I'll watch your place."

I thanked her, and stayed with her a little longer as our conversation shifted into a lighter tone. Every now and again she'd stop and that melancholy would take over her stare and linger there. I couldn't stand to see her in so much pain, but I wasn't sure what to say to make things better. I didn't think that anything I'd say and do would. Like I thought, it was a deeper wound than mine, one which time clearly couldn't heal. I wished I never brought up the issue at all.

xoxox

The day before my trip was hectic. I had to go to work after school because I was too scared to ask for a day off. I met Alice and Anya for dinner, after which I rushed to Emmett and Rosalie's place to say goodbye. I didn't get home until nine P.M, and I still had a few things to pack. Who needed sleep anyway?

A glimpse of purple caught my eye when I was about to cross the tiny lobby. It was a post-it from Claire, stuck to my mailbox: _heading uptown bright and early tomorrow, so won't be able to say goodbye. Bon voyage and good luck! _She drew a smiley face at the bottom of the page. Its grin was lopsided. All I could think of was where the hell she got herself purple post-its. I made a mental note to ask her when I was back. And to remark on her drawing abilities, or the lack of them.

A few envelopes were peeking out of the mailbox. I dropped my bag on the floor and got it opened. The hasty motion sent the envelopes flying out. They landed on the floor with a soft whoosh. "Damn it," I muttered, and bent to pick them up. There was a hint of color among the blank pieces of paper; I thought it was the London Eye. I let go of the envelopes without even realizing it, and stared at the remaining piece of post in my hand. It quivered; it took me a moment to realize it was me. It made me feel like an idiot, but each attempt to compose myself was futile. I turned the postcard over and felt myself exhale slowly at the sight of her handwriting.

_When you come to see me, I'll take you here. Love, B x_

I smiled at her prophetic promise. _When you come to see me_. It was almost as if she knew. Not too long now, love, I thought to myself as I took the stairs two-by-two. For the first time in months, I felt hope.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen – Bella**

Despite my fear to mess things up on my first production, it was halfway behind us. We only had a few days of it left. After merely days at the theatre, it felt as if I'd been doing this for months. It was an arduous routine, but I enjoyed it all: the performances, the bustle backstage, even being recognized by people at the stage door. The imminent ending of this production didn't mean busy times would soon be behind us, though. We'd already got the rehearsal schedule for our next production, _Cinderella_, much to Ivan's dismay, as it wasn't his bet. I didn't mind much what it was going to be, as long as I was doing something.

In New York, school recommenced, and even miles away, this fact reassured me. This would surely force Edward into a livelier mood. I got daily reports from Alice now, and she said he was getting better. I spoke to Anya once or twice and she confirmed it, so that was a relief. When I asked him about his classes, a few days ago on the phone, he sounded aloof, almost uninterested. There was only one time I remembered him sounding that way, right after his grandfather died. I trusted Alice and Anya though. They would watch him for me.

It was almost my birthday, my first in years without him. I tried not to let this fact get to me, but it seemed inevitable. I had always been more emotional in those days before my birthday, and being so far away from him didn't help much. Fortunately, Ivan and Jenna had never let me sink into my misery. Whenever I became too quiet, they told me of their plans to get me out. They were like guardian angels, a fairy godmother of sorts. I was so lucky to have them.

At the end of today's matinee, I didn't linger by the stage door like I'd normally do. I blew a kiss to Ivan and hurriedly crossed the street. I made a stop at the supermarket before heading into the Tube on my way to Marble Arch. Nathan called me this morning, all apologies as usual, and asked me if I minded watching over Emily for a few hours. Her regular babysitter was out of town, he said, and he had an important meeting at work he couldn't put off. Since I didn't have plans for this evening, I said I'd do it.

Emily dashed downstairs before I even shut the door behind me. I toppled backwards, giggling, as she launched herself at me. Her energy never ceased to amaze me. It had always caught me off-guard, considering how grave she'd always looked. She still had her school uniform on when I arrived, and they made her look twice as serious.

"Unfortunately I don't have time to give you a proper tour," Nathan apologized as he wrapped a scarf around his neck. "I left you a number where you can reach me; it's by the phone. Take everything you want from the kitchen, it's right over there," he nodded over his shoulder. Then he gave Emily a stern look. "You know your bedtime, little one."

"Yes, Daddy," replied Emily, her arms still around me.

"Be a good girl, sweetheart," he ruffled her hair as he looked up at me. "Thanks so much for doing this."

"No problem. Get out of here, we'll be fine."

He lingered a moment longer, as if debating whether he should leave me at his daughter's mercy or not. And then, as if he realized he was late, he snatched his shabby briefcase and was out of the door.

"What's in the bag?"

I followed her eyes. They were sat on my groceries bag. "I thought we could make pancakes for dinner, and I wasn't sure you'd have everything we need to make them." Her face brightened, so I thought my plan would work fine. "Let's put it in the kitchen, okay?"

"Would you like me to show you the rest of the house, too?"

"Why, yes, Miss Earnshaw, I'd like that very much," I smiled at her, and let her tow me towards the kitchen.

xoxox

I let her help me make the pancakes, and we had them with milk later. She'd done all her homework before I got there, so I only helped her prepare for a spelling quiz she had the next day. She claimed she was old enough and didn't need any help taking a bath, so I waited in her room until she was done. It was bigger than any room I'd had as a kid, neither at Renée's nor at Charlie's. Purple dominated all over the place: the curtains and the bedspread, and the three small chairs by the miniature tea table beneath the window. The bookshelf contained more books one would expect to find in the room of a seven-year-old. An impressive collection of porcelain dolls occupied three shelves on the opposite wall. It was the room of every girl's dreams.

I looked up when Emily eventually emerged, wearing her pajamas. Her hair was tumbling down her shoulder in waves, a trace of the braid it was previously tied in. I smiled at her. "You're one lucky kid, you know that? I really like your room."

"Daddy did it. Just last year. It was pink before," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"I don't like pink, too." I found her hairbrush (purple, of course) on the dresser. She climbed onto bed, and I came to sit behind her.

"What's your favorite color?"

"It changes," I replied as I began to run the hairbrush through her hair. It was soft, smelling faintly of lavender.

"Right now?" she pressed.

"Right now, I'd say purple," I grinned and poked her side. We struggled for a moment, but eventually I let her go and continued to brush her hair. I remembered my own mom brushing my hair as a kid. She'd always done it before bedtime, claiming it put me to sleep right away. Worked better than a lullaby, she used to joke. "That feels nice, doesn't it?"

She nodded. "Daddy doesn't do it right."

I laughed at the frown in her voice. "Daddy is lucky your hair isn't curly."

"Daddy says my mommy's hair was."

I mentally kicked myself for my slip. And yet there was something a little odd about her statement. "You didn't know your mom?"

"She left when I was a baby."

I had to force myself to keep brushing her hair. Her voice was heart-wrenching. And the word she used, _left_, had all this horrible connotations, worse than death. All I really wanted to do was give her a hug. "Does Daddy tell you about her a lot?"

"No. It makes him sad when he talks about it, so I don't ask."

I didn't have a response to that. The entire situation was strange and a little scary to me. I didn't know what to say, how to say it, so I wouldn't hurt her even further. She seemed scarred enough.

"It must be nice to have a mother," she said, and there was a sort of wistfulness to the statement. She glanced over her shoulder. "Do you have a mother?"

I felt almost guilty to reply. "Yes, I do."

"What's she like?"

So I helped her get into bed and told her about Renée. It reminded me of a scene from _Peter Pan_, where Wendy was telling the lost boys about her own mother. And then I remembered that in that scene, Wendy became a surrogate mother for the boys, which wasn't the case here. The very possibility terrified me. I was reluctant to speak at first. Maybe I shouldn't do this. I didn't want to inflict even more damage than necessary on this sweet little girl. But she kept asking me questions, so I kept talking, until her head drooped against her pillow.

There was a certain relief in the realization she finally fell asleep. I'd been on edge since the issue of her mother came up, and I wasn't really sure how to handle it. I still thought I could have handled it much better than I had. I shouldn't have egged her on with talking about my own mother. But it was kind of too late to fix things now. I hoped Nathan wouldn't be mad at me for meddling.

I picked a book from his library and took it to the living room. I curled on the old sofa, but when I tried to read, I found myself nodding off to sleep. The written words made no sense to me. I wasn't even sure if I placed the book aside. It felt as if I had no control on my own body. I didn't realize I was so tired. My eyelids were drooping despite my decision to stay awake in case Emily needed something. Just for a few minutes, I told myself.

The next thing I knew, a hand fluttered against my cheek. The touch was warm and gentle, pulling my out of deep sleep. I pressed my face into it, instinctively thinking it would be Edward. And then I remembered it couldn't be, and my eyes snapped open. I nearly leaped off the sofa, but managed to hold back a shriek. Nathan was kneeling next to me, his hand now suspended in the air. His face was dark with worry.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said lowly, slowly lowering his hand.

"That's okay, I didn't mean to fall asleep," I rasped. My cheeks were flaring. Who knew what he thought of me, first grabbing his hand, now this…

"You're exhausted. That's understandable." He sat back on the coffee table as I sat up and stretched. I was pretty sure the heat was on, and still I was cold. He obviously noticed the shudder that went through me. "Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea before you leave?"

"Sure."

By the time I straightened my clothes and joined him in the kitchen, he was pouring the dark, steaming liquid into two mugs. He looked up when I walked in. "No milk in yours, right?"

I flashed a crooked smile at him as I sat down. "I'm not _that_ British yet." He chuckled and handed me a mug. I wrapped my hands around it. I felt slightly warmer already. "So did you get everything set at work?"

He nodded as he took a seat in front of me. "Yes. And I'll be forever grateful you were willing to watch Emily for me."

"Don't worry about it. We had a nice evening." I took a small sip. The tea burnt my tongue a little, but the warmth that spread through me was instant and comforting.

"She likes you very much. Sometimes it's easy to forget how much she misses that, a woman's care. No matter how much I give her, it will never be enough."

He always had the same look while referring to this issue. This melancholic, almost wistful look, that look that always left me pondering. My conversation with Emily tonight made me courageous. I knew them a little better now, so I didn't think he would be offended if I asked. "What happened to her?"

It took him a long moment to answer, although he clearly understood my question. "She left. When Emily was four months old."

I couldn't do much, but stare at him. I was in no position to judge them when my own mother left my father when I was barely one year old, but she took me with her. She didn't leave me behind. What kind of a mother would abandon her baby like that? How could she? _Why_ would she?

My shock was probably written all over my expression, because he shook his head. "I don't resent her for leaving. We were young – she was your age when we had Emily. I won't tire you out with the details, but we've been through a lot until then, and I guess it was just too much to take."

"Is that a good enough justification?" I found myself ask.

"Probably not. But love works in mysterious ways."

I couldn't argue with that.

He chuckled humorlessly. "My mother says I had it coming, that I've always been spineless when it came to Claire. She keeps telling me that if I married her, it wouldn't have happened. She had never forgiven her for leaving, for making Emily go through this. She keeps telling me I should find a woman and marry her, that Emily will never grow up right without a mother, as if it were that simple. Women don't usually fancy the single dad type."

I nodded. I remember him telling me that the first time we met.

"Besides, in a way, I guess I'm still waiting for her to come back."

"Do you think she will?"

"After seven years? I seriously doubt it. I'm probably stupid for hoping. But even if I do meet someone…" He sighed. "I can't marry someone when I see Claire in Emily every single day."

"You still love her."

It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway without saying anything. And he didn't have to, really. It was all in his eyes.

"Why won't you tell Emily about her?"

"Because it hurts too much when I do. Because I'm not always sure what to say, how to handle it." He chuckled bitterly. "My mother says that Emily's constant questions are God's way to punish me. This way I'll have to talk about it, she says. It will always remind me of what happened."

"I don't think you need to let your mom get you down. I really think you underestimate Emily. She'll understand if you tell her. I think she really wants to know. And for what it's worth, I really do think you're doing a great job. Even better than my dad." He raised an eyebrow, a wordless question. "My parents are divorced. I spent summers at my dad's."

"Sometimes I think that if it was only a matter of divorce, it was better, as twisted as it sounds."

"Maybe she _will_ come back." Suddenly, I really wanted to believe that she would; for his sake, as well as for Emily's. He looked so sad. There was something really tragic about pinning for someone seven years after they were gone. That empty look in his eyes finally made sense to me.

My comment made him chuckle. "Listen to yourself. You're spending too much time with me. Get out of here before you become as spineless as me."

"I really _should_ get going," I said, yawning despite myself. I got up to put my empty mug in the sink, but then, halfway there, I stopped to listen. The constant tap against the window could only mean one thing. And sure enough, when I approached the window and looked outside, raindrops were clearly visible against the streetlamps. My coat was at home, still soaking wet from dashing home the other night after my umbrella had lost in a fight against the wind. I had nothing but a light jacket here with me, and it didn't even have a hoodie.

He must have noticed my suddenly anxious face, because suddenly he was standing behind me, looking outside. "How did you think of getting home?"

"Umm, running?"

"I'll call you a cab," he said, already halfway to the phone on the opposite wall. Then he lowered his hand. "Or you could stay here. I'll take the couch."

"That's sweet, but I should really get home." I didn't suspect his motives in the slightest. I trusted him completely. I knew he didn't mean anything disrespectful. But the truth was I didn't think I could handle Emily's questions in the morning, and she was sure to have some of those.

"Right. A cab it is then. And I'll get you one of my coats."

"Really, that's unnecessary – "

"I insist. I'll feel responsible if the company is missing a dancer for tomorrow's performance if you come down with pneumonia or something."

I gave in, and rinsed our mugs in the sink when he called a cab for me and went to find me a coat. Then I went to the living room to get my stuff. He reappeared shortly afterwards carrying a brown coat and an umbrella.

"Thanks," I said as he held out the coat for me to slip my arms through the sleeves. I felt a little awkward with all the attention, but I knew he meant well.

"So, it's your birthday in a few days," he remarked as he walked me to the door. "Any special plans?"

"Umm, not really. Ivan and Jenna will probably take me out at some point. Ivan will try to get me drunk," I sniggered at the feeble mental picture I envisioned.

"Perhaps, if you want, we could do something together. I know Emily would love that. She's been talking about getting you a gift for nearly two weeks now."

I felt the familiar warmth in my cheeks as I looked up at him pleadingly. "Please, don't get me anything – " Realizing it might offend him, I stopped to rephrase. "I don't respond well to gifts. You can ask anyone you want in my family. Even my boyfriend knows gifts are off limits."

My explanation seemed to amuse him. "You're throwing fits and such?"

I sulked. "If he ever comes to see me, I'll make sure to introduce you guys so he could tell you himself."

"Well, in that case, I'll see what I can do. Emily might be impossible to reign, but I'll do my best," he grinned at me.

"Thanks," I sighed with relief. I couldn't bear the thought of rejecting whatever Emily thought of getting me. The last thing I wanted to do was break this little girl's heart.

"Your cab should be here by now," Nathan said as he unlocked the door. "Thanks again for tonight, Bella."

"Any time, really," I smiled at him and peeked outside. It didn't look as bad as it sounded. I'd walked through worse in Forks. I put the hoodie of the coat over my head anyway. "Goodnight."

I made a run for the cab, and waved at him when I was safe inside. He waved back, and lingered on the doorway for a second, with that same sad, contemplative expression on his face. By the time I'd given the cabbie my address and looked over my shoulder, he was gone.

xoxox

Ivan and Jenna decided to be original and take me out for drinks the night _before_ my birthday, so by the time it was midnight, we could celebrate properly. If it was up to me, I'd head straight home and sleep until the next day, but Ivan wouldn't hear it. He showed up at me place even though it was a huge detour for him on the way to the theatre, just to make sure I wouldn't leave the house in some old sweats. He was so much like Alice sometimes it was laughable. So once I realized I had no choice but submit to Ivan's plan, I kept my mouth shut and bid his every command.

The whole mini-celebration thing got him all excited. He hadn't been to a party in ages, he said, which was pretty much untrue because he'd been to one just the previous week and he'd told Jenna and me all about it, in a little too much detail than we cared to listen. I'd never seen him so hyper.

"Hurry up, birthday girl, let's go!" his voice rose higher than the rest in the chaos of the hallways when tonight's performance finally ended.

I rolled my eyes as I slipped into my new purple coat. I only bought it the other day, as my grey one was still a little soggy and kind of useless to me right now. Still, I hoped it wasn't raining. I didn't want this one to be ruined so soon after I got it. And I kind of liked it, too. I hadn't had a chance to show it to Emily yet, but I had a feeling she would approve of the color. I bought it with her in mind.

"Where's Jenna?" I asked Ivan when I finally joined him, following his lead to the stage door.

"She's already outside," he nodded forward to prove his point. "_Some_ people don't take ages to get ready," he said, batting his eyelashes.

"I had the best teacher," I elbowed him and made a quick escape outside. The chill was overwhelming after the stuffy heat of the building, but at least it wasn't raining.

"_Oi_!" he protested. "That's a nasty lie and you know it!" But his pout soon transformed into his trademark smile when an old lady asked him to sign her granddaughter's program.

People hardly took notice of me at the stage door, which was fine by me. I just liked to tag along. Ivan had always provided some sort of entertainment. Tonight, for example, this old lady gushed over him and told him he was 'glorious'. I had to force my wild giggle back. I mentally filed the information for later use. Jenna would _roar_.

"Miss Swan, could you…?"

"Of course." I always had a silver sharpie in my coat pocket just in case, although I hardly found it necessary. Only extremely devoted fans of the company addressed the minor members of the company, anyway.

There was a small crowd out tonight, which was pretty much the usual. I'd always been a bit overwhelmed by the attention, but I was thankfully getting the hang of it. I gained a little confidence in the few weeks since we'd opened. I smiled at people's compliments and laughed at their anecdotes. I took pictures with little girls when their grandmothers insisted, and answered questioned when I was being asked. By the time they promoted me, Jenna used to joke, I'd be a pro.

An elderly woman with a kind smile handed me her program. Her granddaughter was waiting in the car, she explained. She came here sick to see us, and her grandmother didn't want her to wait in the cold. She said she read in my bio I was from New York. Her son-in-law was a New Yorker. It had never ceased to amaze me how some people were actually interested in things that were written in those programs. I answered a few of her questions while Ivan signed some more autographs beside me. He was flirting with a blonde guy on the queue. I mentally rolled my eyes. _So_ unprofessional. I caught sight of Jenna, further down the queue, and nodded towards Ivan. She rolled her eyes in return, her thoughts clearly reflecting my own.

The woman had just turned to go when Ivan suddenly leaned over to whisper in my ear, "Bloody hell, love, there's someone here who looks _exactly_ like your hot boyfriend!"

My head whipped up and my eyes met Ivan's. He just grinned and nodded towards something over my shoulder. The streetlamps cast a shadow at the spot he occupied, but I'd recognize him everywhere, even in pitch darkness. I thought I dropped my sharpie when my hand flew to my mouth to stop the gasp that nearly escaped me. He just kept standing there with the tiniest smirk on his face as if he heard it anyway. His expression was a mixture of bliss and love and relief and so many other things.

And no one else existed. I heard Ivan calling something after me – some teasing comment or other – but I might as well be deaf. I shut myself out to any other sound, any other movement. Nothing mattered more than reaching him. It reminded me of another time, a different one, that day he came to my mom's wedding.

His smirk shifted into a proper grin when I finally approached him. I didn't know how I stopped myself from throwing myself at him, but somehow I did. I just stared at him for a long moment before I could speak – before I could _breathe_ – again.

"You're here," I murmured when words found me. I looked up at him in disbelief. His eyes were gleaming even in the poor light of the street. His hair looked more tousled than usual, screaming for me to run my fingers through it.

"I'm here."

I wasn't sure if he opened his arms first or if I stepped forward, but it didn't matter, because in the next moment I was enveloped in his embrace. In a second, loneliness, despair, frustration, were all gone. He was here. Nothing else mattered.

We held each other for a long time. I breathed in his familiar scent. In a brief moment of lucidity, I was reminded of Emily's remark about her friend's boyfriend smelling of pickles, and laughed softly to myself. I could feel his lips pressing to the top of my head. His arms tightened around me for a second before he slowly, reluctantly, released me. But even then, I couldn't look away from him. My fingers fluttered to his chin and lingered there. His eyes were saying everything his lips wouldn't.

Someone over my shoulder cleared his throat. I frowned at the interruption and reluctantly tore my eyes away from Edward's. Ivan was standing there, smiling angelically, and held out the sharpie I'd dropped. "Aren't you going to introduce us, love?"

The question was aimed at me, but his eyes were all for Edward. He flashed him a flirtatious smile. I felt Edward cringe. I sighed. I guessed it was too late to warn Ivan to behave. "Edward, this is Ivan. Ivan – Edward."

"Enchanté," Ivan swept him a small courtesy. Edward couldn't hide his grin as he pressed me to his chest. Ivan chose not to notice. "I must say, you look even better in person."

I made a mental note to smack him for making Edward look so flustered. On second thought, it was kind of adorable. I couldn't really tell in this poor light, but I thought he was blushing. He kept one arm wrapped tightly around me. I clung to his side almost without realizing that I was.

"I heard a lot about you," Edward told Ivan. I even missed his _voice_. I didn't realize how pathetic I was acting until this revelation dawned on me.

"Only bad things, I hope," Ivan replied in a low, sultry tone. He looked as if he was stopping himself from kissing Edward's hand. He was all but undressing him with lustful stares. Then his head whipped back and he cried out, "_Jenna_! Come and meet Bella's other half!"

I let Ivan introduce them, because he seemed to be getting a kick out of it. I could see Jenna was impressed with Edward for coming all the way here, but unlike Ivan, she didn't let it show. I knew I should expect a call from her at some point the next day. At this point, he wasn't holding me, but I could tell he wanted to, at least to keep away from Ivan. The four of us chatted for a little bit, and then Ivan mock-frowned. "I'll take it that tonight's celebrations have been called off then?" he asked me, and his eyes flickered to Edward again. "He can come too."

I groaned. In my mind's eye I saw Ivan trying to play footsie with Edward beneath the table. My eyes met Jenna's, and I could tell the same thought had crossed her mind as well. She wrapped her arms around his. "Come on, Ivan the Magnificent," she said, flashing a grin at me. "They'll join us tomorrow."

"In that case, early happy birthday, hon," Ivan wrapped me in a hug, and I could sense him eyeing Edward from over my shoulder. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do… or don't do something I would!"

"You _wish_," Jenna tugged at the ear fluff of his hat. It took a few attempts, but eventually she managed to tow him forward and away, calling one last goodbye in our direction.

I smiled to myself and turned to face Edward. My head was spinning. I couldn't believe he was here. He held his arm out, his eyes leering at me. I slowly placed my hand in his, and watched as he laced our fingers together. It was easy to forget where we were, that there were still people around, probably watching us curiously. All of it was hazy information at the back of my mind. Fortunately, I remembered it well enough not to pounce on him and kiss him senseless right there and then.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, still in a whisper.

He grinned. "We already missed my birthday. It felt wrong to miss yours, too."

There were about dozens of other questions whirling in my head – did he just get here? How long was he here for? What about school? – but none of those was so urgent to dwell on just now. I squeezed his hand and smiled at him.

"Come on. Let's get you home."

xoxox

It was a twenty minutes journey back to my place. After we switched trains in Embankment, we shared a small bench on a nearly empty car. He held on to his suitcase in one hand, and kept me close with his other arm. We hardly said two words to one another yet, but it was hardly necessary. He smiled at me whenever our eyes met, and I couldn't help but wonder where was the depressed guy I'd spoken on the phone to not three days ago. There was no trace of him now. He looked perfectly calm as he let his fingers draw patterns on my shoulder. I didn't know why I'd expected to find a change in him, but there was none. He looked a bit weary, but that was probably a result of the long flight.

"Now what?" he asked me when we finally stepped back into the chilly night air. Very few people got off at my stop; the street was nearly deserted.

"Now we walk," I smiled, and led the way down Kensington Street. I could sense his impatience beginning to surface. It was easy to spot when my own patience was slowly slipping away from me. Our breath came in small clouds before us, but I hardly felt the chill with his hand clutched around mine.

When we reached my building, I stopped on the sidewalk and looked up. His eyes followed mine. "Which floor?" he asked me.

"The top."

"That's too long."

I felt a tug on my hand, and a pull, and before I could do anything, his lips crashed against mine, muting the sound that rose in my throat, a cross between a giggle and a gasp. The sensation of his lips on mine made my knees buckle instantly. It was as if someone unleashed dozens of butterflies in the pit of my stomach. Every touch of our tongues made my blood gush and sizzle. His hands threaded in my hair, settled on both sides of my face, holding me tighter. I sucked in a shaky breath when he abruptly pulled away from me, but his lips lingered on my heated skin, sending fire wherever they touched. "Bella…"

I slowly opened my eyes at the sound of my name. We were both breathless, tangled in one another, a mess of arms and coats and scarves, and heavy breaths. His eyes were blazing, his lips curling in a weary smile. I stood on tiptoes to press my lips to his again, but pulled away without giving him a chance to kiss me back. I grinned at him, took his hand, and led him inside the building.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen – Edward**

I felt completely lightheaded when we pulled away on the sidewalk in front of her building, partly from the long journey, partly from our kisses. Heat radiated from her body despite the thick coat she had on, and her smile – reflecting my own, I thought – was enough to make my heart melt. Her eyes hardly left mine since she had spotted me standing by the stage door. Her reaction was everything I'd expected it would be and more. And this reunion? So far, it was better.

She pressed another teasing kiss to my lips before she took my hand and led me inside, throwing me a sly look from over her shoulder.

It was extremely frustrating, wheeling my suitcase in a way that wouldn't disturb her neighbors and kissing her properly at the same time. If I wasn't so eager to get upstairs already, I'd stop and laugh at our situation. We couldn't get our hands off each other. Every three stairs or so I'd press her against the wall so I could deepen our kiss. Her hands would roam over my coat, urgent and greedy. I thought she got a few buttons undone, but I didn't stop to make sure. Whenever I let my lips drift away from hers to catch on my shaky breath, she would bury her head in the crook of my neck. In a hazy moment of coherence I thought there might have been certain advantages to long distance relationships after all. I couldn't stand to be away from her. I couldn't understand how I had for so long.

Finally, we reached her door. She turned her back on me as she fumbled with her bag, trying to find her keys. I wrapped my arms around her, and she pressed her back against my chest. I brushed my lips against her throat as she tried to fit the key in the lock. I let my tongue flicker over her skin before I gently sucked on it. She threw her head back and moaned when I hit a sensitive spot. I pulled away to hush her before I brought my attention back to her neck. Her apartment was the only one on the floor, but somehow I didn't think any of her neighbors would want to step outside and stumble upon this.

The sound of an unfastening lock was sweeter than music. Bella turned in my arms and our lips met again. This kiss had a different edge than all others, more urgent, playfulness all gone. I blindly felt the air ahead of us until I found the doorknob. I twisted it and we stumbled inside, still kissing. I kicked the door shut and pinned her against it. I was getting dizzy, so I gave myself a few seconds to recover and just looked at her. The flush in her cheeks was somehow visible in the darkness. I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and placed my thumb over her bottom lip. She pressed a kiss to my thumb, her eyes gleaming as they locked on mine.

"Happy birthday," I whispered, leaning down to kiss her again. We stood on the doorway for a moment, kissing fervently, before she pushed me gently backwards without breaking the kiss. I stole a glance from over her shoulder as we started a slow progress forward, but it was too dark to make out my surroundings. I could only guess where she was leading me to with such urgency.

I realized we reached our destination only when we stopped moving along the hallway. I wanted to protest when she pulled away from me and crossed the room to click a lamp on. The room washed in a golden glow. I didn't look around to acknowledge the unfamiliar bedroom. I saw only her, now back in front of me with a tiny grin curling on her lips. I returned her smile and stepped closer. I brushed a hand along one side of her face, down her cheek, her throat and downwards, meeting my other hand at the front of her coat as I slowly started unbuttoning it. Her fingers clawed at my coat again, imitating my movements with much more impatience than my own.

This was when I made the mistake of looking away from her. My eyes flickered across the room for a second, but apparently a second was all it took. I squinted, and did a double take. My entire body went rigid. It couldn't be what I thought it was, could it?

"What's wrong?" she tugged on my collar, her smile deceiving in its sweetness.

I didn't answer. I barely even heard the question. I couldn't look away. I felt as if I'd been punched in the stomach. Sudden chill replaced the warmth that had numbed my senses up until now. I felt disoriented, and not as a result of her kisses.

"Edward, what? What is it?" she asked, and there was an edge to the question now, a hint of panic, I thought. She looked over her shoulder, searching for the thing that caught my interest.

"What's that?" I asked, nodding towards the coat on the armchair in the corner of the room, thick and brown and definitely not hers.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you, thinking I'm a real idiot or something!" I didn't even realize I said it aloud until I saw her eyes widen in horror. I didn't stop to apologize. I was too blinded by fury, and by something else, something I told myself wasn't jealousy. "Whose coat is it?"

She stared at me with that same wide-eyed expression before she burst into laughter that infuriated me further. "_That_'s what it's all about? Seriously?"

"I don't see how that's funny!"

"It's no one's!"

"If it's no one's, why is it in your bedroom?" I flinched inwardly at my rising tone. The fire was back now in double power, but it was a different fire than the one her touch had inflicted not ten minutes ago. I felt like such a fool. For two months I was mourning her loss, yearning for her. I trusted her sweet words and empty promises, I nearly went against my own brother when he suggested I'd see other people, while all the while it turned out she'd done just that.

"Edward, please, it's nothing – " she started, reaching out to touch my arm. I shoved her hand away with more force than I intended. She gasped, her eyes flying to mine. Her bottom lip began to quiver. The glimmer in her eyes looked suspiciously like tears. But I didn't fall for those. I kept my eyes on hers, telling myself I wouldn't release her until she answered.

"I babysat a friend's daughter a couple of days ago. It started raining when I was about to leave. He gave me his coat. I meant to give it back, but I didn't get a chance to."

I shut out against the tremor in her voice. Another act, nothing more. A voice at the back of my head winced at her sudden change of expression, told me I was being ridiculous. She looked so happy to see me when we met at the stage door. It couldn't be an act. There was no way. And still, knowing all that, I found myself questioning her. "A friend? Is he a part of the company?"

"No."

"Who is he then?"

"Am I under any suspicion here?" she cut me off, half incredulous, half enraged, and clearly impatient. There was a hint of mockery in the question. Then she took a deep breath, to compose herself, I thought. She stepped forward; I stopped myself from stepping back. "Do you remember that a few weeks ago you told me Jordan invited you to her birthday party?"

"It's not the same thing," I grumbled, keeping my gaze away from her.

"Do you remember what you told me on the phone that day?" she pressed, ignoring my attempt to contradict her, and inched closer. "You said there was no reason for me to be jealous, that there was no competition," she reminded me, her voice a seductive whisper. Her breath was hot; it left my skin prickling, yearning for more. "I'm telling you the same thing now," she murmured and pressed a kiss to the skin beneath my ear. My eyes snapped shut as a hiss escaped me.

I struggled not to stir when her arms tightened around my neck. She let her lips flutter along my jaw, on my cheek, my temple, my nose, burning a trail on my skin. I told myself to stay still, to resist her, not to fall for this diversion, but when her lips found mine again, any sort of resistance ceased to exist, to the extent that I didn't care if she _was_ trying to divert me. I kissed her back with the same passion as her own. The fire felt stronger than ever, getting much deeper than just my skin. I was consumed by desire. I needed this, I needed her. That was all I knew for sure.

xoxox

I woke up the next day without remembering where I was or how I got there. I only knew this wasn't my bed or my room. A glimpse of purple across the room brought it all back. I sat up and groaned. I looked at her coat for a moment, and then I glanced at my watch. It showed six A.M, but the light that came streaming through the blinds suggested it was later, at least midday. And then I remembered I hadn't changed it when I landed. Eleven, then.

I was alone in bed. I was surprised that this fact didn't bother me, but after everything that happened the other night, it really shouldn't come as surprise. Somehow me brilliant plan had gone terribly wrong. The sweet reunion I envisioned resembled last night, but only on the surface. Even though she explained the story behind the coat I had spotted in her bedroom, I still doubted her. I wasn't sure why. A hunch, maybe, or envy that she really did seem happy here, happier than I'd hoped to find her, or maybe the result of her leaving me had made me so vulnerable my mind was building up its own visions of the truth.

I'd never been as rough with her before, but then again, my mind was in too much of a mess to care at the time. For one dreadful moment, I thought I might have hurt her, and it terrified me that I couldn't remember if I had. My mind was blank, like during a really bad hangover. I couldn't remember anything about last night, nothing concrete anyway. I was pretty sure I hadn't harmed her. She would have stopped me if I had. _I_ would have stopped myself. No matter how angry with her I'd been, I could never hurt her. I thought I heard her cry when I drifted to frenzied slumber afterwards, but I was pretty sure it wasn't because I hurt her. Not physically, anyway.

I pulled a tee shirt over my head and got out of bed. I just sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, familiarizing myself with my surroundings. I couldn't see the coat that started the whole thing, and from some reason this fact annoyed me. It made me think I was making things up, that it was all in my head, even though I knew for a fact it was real. If any memory was concrete about last night, this was it. My suitcase was suddenly in the room, although we left it by the front door when we walked in last night. She must have brought it in at some point. This hint of thoughtfulness on her side made me feel horrible. I shook my head, as if that way I could somehow rid myself of the guilt that suddenly hit me full force. I got some fresh clothes and headed out to find the bathroom.

Everything about the apartment was unfamiliar to me, and it irritated me in an irrational kind of way. It was probably just jetlag; it was making me act funny. I just needed to calm down. I'd feel better after a shower, I told myself. And then I'd apologize. Maybe I _was_ blowing things out of proportion. I was just tired, that's all.

The bathroom was two doors down the hall, but when I meant to open the door, I suddenly halted. Bella's voice was nothing but a soft murmur, coming from further down the hall, probably where the living room was. She was on the phone.

"Yes, I know, sweetie, I wanted to see you, too. Yes, last night. I'm not sure for how long, I haven't – I'm sorry. I do, too. I'll make it up to you, honey, I promise."

My fingers were wrapped so tightly around the doorknob my knuckles turned white. I swayed slightly, feeling the blood drain from my face. I took a deep breath to steady myself, and snuck into the bathroom. I didn't want to hear anymore. The door clicked shut behind me. The sound snapped me out of my trance as new fury began to build up within me, sending livid fire through my veins, stronger than that of the night before. I wondered how she was going to deny that. I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

It took me ages to figure out how the water system worked, but when I finally did, I let the room fill with steam before I stepped beneath the water stream. I closed my eyes, hoping it would soothe my rage, but it only made my thoughts race faster. I couldn't stop thinking about the previous night. Watching her at the stage door before she noticed me, it was almost as if she was a different person. I'd never seen her so confident among strangers. She was practically glowing, walking gracefully down the queue. She was still Bella, _my_ Bella, but at the same time, she was also this stranger I'd never seen before in my life. I felt like a downright intruder, showing up in the middle of all this. It was as if she now had this whole other life, a secret life, I wasn't a part of.

It was useless. Anger was still bubbling within me, impossible to tame. I stood in front of the mirror for three minutes straight, trying to get a grip. Even if my suspicions were correct, I didn't want to repeat my tantrum from last night. I thought a change of tactic might work better than losing my temper. I wanted to see what she'd do. Maybe by observing her, I'd be able to see if she was hiding something. Of course, overhearing her conversation told me pretty much everything I needed to know, but a part of me refused to grasp that. I hoped her behavior to prove me wrong. I _needed_ it to.

The door creaked open when I poked my head into the hallway. There was no noise, not even from the street, which made me wonder again if I was reading my watch right after all. It was too quiet to be midday. A delicious smell of fried eggs dominated the apartment, and I suddenly realized I was starving. I followed the scent to the kitchen, further down the hall. I only had my socks on, but somehow she still heard me coming. She was dressed up, in black tights and an oversized grey V-neck I'd never seen before. I struggled to meet her eyes; it was harder than I thought.

She smiled at me, but it was careful, guarded. "Hey."

"Are you going somewhere?"

My abrupt question seemed to surprise her. "Oh." She looked down at herself. "We're doing a matinee today so I have to be at the theatre earlier. I was on my way to wake you up and tell you that."

I forgot she wasn't in a kind of a job where she could just take the time off to be with me. This sudden realization made me somewhat baffled. Stupidly enough, it was something I hadn't thought out thoroughly while planning this trip.

"I got you some breakfast," she continued, looking at the stove over her shoulder as she offered me that hesitant smile again. Then she crossed the small kitchen and came to stand in front of me. Her stare was fathomless, pleading, and above all, hopeful. "Are you still mad?"

"No." The lie slipped from my lips with difficulty. I blinked, unsure I'd actually said it. The voice didn't sound like my own. The word sure wasn't. I was _furious_.

I knew she expected me to make the next step, so I closed the remaining distance between us and slowly wrapped my arms around her. The motion, although familiar, was also painfully estranged. As we stood there holding each other, I tried to assess the damage. There weren't visible bruises anywhere. She wasn't flinching with pain or shying away from me, but quite the contrary. Maybe it was all in my head then.

But one thing wasn't in my head. _I wanted to see you, too... I'll make it up to you, honey, I promise._

The fact I wasn't pulling away seemed to reassure her. I felt her leaning against me as a sigh escaped her. "I'm so glad you're here," she whispered, and looked up at me. The glimmer in her eyes was familiar. "How long are you here for?"

I probably wouldn't have minded the question if I hadn't now suspected she was only asking it to pass the information on to whomever it was on the phone. "Two days."

Her smile widened at that, reaching all the way to her eyes. It was one of those smiles that had always made my heart melt, but not today. I forced myself to stay composed, to keep my gaze on hers, not to shove her away, but the truth was I could barely look at her, so let alone hold her. It irritated me that there was not a trace of evidence in her face to give her away, to reveal her pretence. It was supposed to reassure me, but it didn't.

"I have to go," she said then, and there was certain reluctance in the way she pulled away from me. I felt strangely relieved. "I'll leave you my keys so you won't have to stay locked in here. Or you can come out with me, if you want?" Her stare was hopeful.

"Actually, I think I'll just go back to sleep." I was still exhausted, and really not in the mood for sightseeing.

Whatever it was in my voice, it made her stop and search my face carefully. A hint of alarm shadowed her blissful expression, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine." Lying, again.

She nodded although she didn't seem convinced. Then she stood on her tiptoes to drop a kiss on my lips. I tried very hard not to wince at the brief touch. "I'll be back right after the show. Then we could go someplace." Her eyes were still on mine, now searching more fervently. Whatever she found there, it made her smile slowly fade. The glimmer in her eyes dimmed with emotion I couldn't quite pinpoint, not even after she was gone.

I went straight into the bedroom, not even bothering to look at the rest of the place. I shut the blinds until the room was swimming in darkness. Then I crawled into bed, pulled the cool covers over my head, and hoped sleep would just take me. My lack of belonging to this place was everywhere – from meeting her friends whom I'd only known from stories, to sharing her bed here. I felt strangely detached, left out, and I didn't like it. I was so used to share everything in my life with her, so when it came to her new life here, it felt odd not to take part in it.

And then it dawned on me. This was what everyone – my parents, Emmett, Claire – was trying to warn me against, why everyone had been trying to dissuade me from coming here. In a way, they were all trying to protect me from this overwhelming sense of detachment, the one that brought up anger and jealousy and now lack of sleep. But I insisted, and learned the hard way. And, of course, everyone was right. I should never have come here.

xoxox

Whereas earlier I resented the fact my visit to London would have to be short, now I was thankful for it. Even those two days there dragged unbearably, and when I was finally on the Tube on my way to the airport, I sighed with relief. Things didn't get better in those two days. We were speaking, but every word, every smile, every touch felt forced. Bella didn't go to the airport with me because she had to be back at the theatre. She seemed equally relieved to say goodbye on the Tube.

Throughout my flight back, I tried to keep the memory of her out of my mind. I didn't want to remember the way she winced after I kissed her goodbye, or the way she let her fingers linger against my cheek, forcing my eyes on hers as she stared at me with that silent plea in his gaze. I knew she was trying to make amends, but I was already set on not falling for any of those tricks. I did, the first night, and now I felt like a fool that I had.

For the first few days after I got back, I avoided everyone. I didn't have the energy to handle things, let alone speaking about it. I didn't skip school. I told myself it would keep my mind off things. I was among the last people to leave the building each evening, as I stayed there to supposedly make up things I missed during my absence. I didn't return Emmett's calls, nor Alice's and Anya's. I knew they'd all expect to hear about my romantic surprise, but just thinking of how twisted things had turned out was another hard blow to my ego. I didn't need their false pity to add on to it.

I hadn't seen Claire yet, which was a disappointment. I wanted to tell her how I now loathed London, probably just as strongly as she had. I knew that she, of all people, would understand. I stopped by her apartment a few times, but she was never in. I was thinking about sticking a post-it on her mailbox asking her over, but I kept putting it off until I forgot about it altogether. When there was a knock on my door on Saturday afternoon, I rushed to get it, thinking it would be her.

But rather, it was an extremely pissed off Emmett on my doorstep.

"Oh," I said dumbly and took an instinctive step back.

"Is that all you have to say for your defense?" He shot me a nasty glare as he let himself in. He was standing between me and the door, so escape in any form was impossible. "Dude, where have you _been_? _Everyone_ is trying to reach you. I came here half expecting to find your decomposing body on the kitchen floor!"

I tried not to flinch at his rising tone. "I've been… busy."

"Try to sell that bullshit to someone else, man. Like Mom, for instance."

I felt my face grow pale. "Did she ask you to come here?"

"It was either that or getting her to fly over from Forks. I think you'll agree this alternative is better," he said, and his glower didn't cease. It made my blood curdle. "What's going on? Why are you hiding from everyone? Is Bella – "

"I don't want to talk about Bella right now."

He stared at me aghast. I guessed my outburst _was_ a little abrupt, but I couldn't handle it. Hearing her name spoken was like a dagger to my heart, and from completely different reasons than before. "Edward, what happened?" His voice was low now, almost a whisper. He gave up the scowl in favor of a softer, more sympathetic look. "Is something wrong with her?"

"Wrong? Oh, no. Nothing's wrong. She's good. Perfect. Couldn't be happier."

"Can you drop the sarcasm for a second and tell me what the hell is going on?"

I wanted to use that same tone on him and tell him to get lost, that I wanted to be alone, that it was none of his damn business anyway. Instead I found myself say, "I think she's seeing someone else."

It was the first time I said it aloud, and the affect was overwhelming. Thinking about something and admitting it aloud were two completely different things. And this confession hurt much more than I thought it would. It took me a moment before I could even look at him again.

Emmett didn't mock me like I'd half expected him to. I wasn't sure which of his reactions would have made me feel better. "Why would you think that?" he asked, in a tone that wasn't quite judgmental. It encouraged me to continue.

"Because I found a man's coat in her bedroom," I said, instinctively narrowing my eyes at the memory. "And then I heard her talking to someone on the phone."

"Have you asked her about it?"

"I have. She said the coat belonged to 'a friend'," I stopped myself from rolling my eyes at the implausible explanation. "She doesn't know I overheard her conversation, so I don't know which excuse she might have come up with for that."

He seemed surprised. "You don't believe her?"

"Why should I?"

"Well, did she act suspiciously at all? I mean, aside for that?"

"No," my voice softened despite myself when I thought of the first second our eyes met, that ride to her place, where all I really wanted was to finally be alone with her, that first kiss on the sidewalk. "Everything was perfect until then."

"Then maybe you're seeing things that aren't really there. Maybe the coat does belong to a friend of hers. I mean, did you expect her _not_ to make friends?"

"I don't know what I expected," I snapped, exasperated and sort of impatient. "I haven't expected it to be so difficult. She's just so… different."

My statement hung there for a moment, and he looked as if he was considering it. Then, after a while he spoke. "The way I see it, she's simply trying to adjust in a strange place. To be honest, she seems to be doing everything I tried to get _you_ to do, but you always shut everyone out."

"So you think I'm a fool to suspect her?"

"You said yourself that it was only two minor incidents."

"I never said they were minor."

"No, they wouldn't feel like it, to you, I guess, but really, man. I think it takes much more than that to have a case on someone, let alone on Bella." His eyes were suddenly hard and poignant on mine. "This girl loves you. If you don't trust your own instincts, trust the words of your older brother. I hear it in her voice whenever I get to talk to her. This one thing hasn't changed. I'm sure of it. And whatever happened there, I think you need to pick up the phone and clear things up with her."

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't call her. I found myself lying to Emmett, telling him that I _had_ called, and that everything was fine. I counted on both Emmett and Bella to be too busy to speak to one another so there was no real risk of him learning the truth in the near future. For nearly three weeks I avoided her phone calls, hitting the 'fast forward' on the answering machine whenever her voice came through. Gradually her messages became shorter as her voice grew more desperate. I absorbed myself in schoolwork and made sure everyone knew I was busy. I wasn't in the mood for motivation talks from Emmett or Alice. Both of them were busy as well; Alice auditioned for various dance troupes, and since Rosalie was due any day now, Emmett spent most of the time by her side. At least I had these two fronts covered.

I'd expected that after this trip to London, everything would be normal again, that my depression would dissipate and I could start living again. Instead it pulled me deeper into depression of a different sort. There was certain comfort in knowing I wasn't regressing. Yet knowing I was sinking further into something I wanted out of wasn't reassuring at all, and sort of frightening, but I didn't have the energy to even try and fight it.

It was another hopeless Thursday when I made my way upstairs earlier than usual. I looked wistfully at Claire's door, but I already knew she wasn't in. Her apartment was dark when I looked up while crossing the street.

I heard the dying sounds of the phone when I reached my floor. The machine picked up as soon as I let myself in. I was just telling myself it was about time I'd get the message on the tape replaced, that when Bella's voice came through, I literally jumped with a start.

"Edward, are you there?" The quiver in her voice was an integral part of it now. "Please pick up if you're there." There was a pause, and a sigh. "Look, you can't keep doing that. We need to talk. So please, call me as soon as you hear this, okay? I don't care what time it is or if you wake me, just… please?" There was another pause, and then, in a whisper, "I love you." Her voice broke, and the line disconnected.

I just stood there, my arms hanging limply at the sides of my body. I didn't even bother to turn the lights on. So far I'd managed to avoid her messages. Her voice weakened me, especially when she sounded so wounded. There was so much emotion there – desperation more than anything else. And this stubbornness of hers? Every other girl would give up way earlier than that. It could only mean one thing. I knew that, even if a certain part of my brain refused to process it. She had to be sincere.

And when this thought hit me, I realized what I wanted to do, what I'd had to do all along.

I grabbed the phone before I could think better of it, but before I managed to dial a single number, loud shrill tore into the silence. The receiver nearly crashed to the floor. "Damn it," I muttered, heart still racing, and accepted the call. "Hello?"

"Oh, good, you're there."

"Emmett?" It sounded like him, but he sounded different; a little breathless, I thought. "Are you okay?"

"No – I mean, _yes_! _Perfect_! Listen, do you have any plans for this evening?"

His tone was light, businesslike. He didn't sound mad like he had in the past three or so weeks. In fact, for the first time in months, he finally sounded like my brother again. "Umm, sleep?" I rolled my eyes, wondering what he was up to now. "Why?"

"Why don't you go and get yourself an overnight bag and some Twinkies and then meet me at the Mount Sinai hospital?"

And then it hit me. My heart all but flew to my throat. "The baby?"

"_Hell, yeah_!" He roared. Of course, Emmett wouldn't fit the pattern of a panicked man on the day his wife was supposed to give birth for the first time. "I just went out to make some calls – it may take a while. Alice is on her way here too, and Rose's parents are already here, so hurry up and get your ass over here, _Uncle_ Edward!"

I laughed, feeling lightheaded like I hadn't had in months. "I'll be there as soon as I can," I promised. I hung up in a haze, my own problems all gone. I dashed down the hallway to pack a small bag. Then I hurried out, hailed the first taxi that pulled into the street, and rushed to the hospital.

**

* * *

**

A/N: a rather gloomy chapter with an optimistic ending, which perfectly reflect the way I'm feeling right now. My grandfather passed away on Monday – we got the phone call shortly after I posted the previous chapter. Needless to say it's been tough couple of days. Ridiculously enough, comments and reviews will cheer me up to no end. I'm always happy to know what you guys think about the way the story is going so far. See you soon x


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen – Bella**

The weekend that followed Edward's visit, I was supposed to go to the park with Nathan and Emily. I wasn't the best company to keep these days. I was upset, and extremely cranky. The smallest things would tick me off. I found myself bursting in tears the other day over some random commercial on TV. But I didn't want to cancel on them again. It was hard enough to have to explain to Emily on the phone why I couldn't see them on my birthday. Besides, I hoped her liveliness would revive my spirit, if only by little.

The plan was to drop their car at my place and then take the Tube to the park. I struggled to get myself together before I went down to meet them, and still, when I joined them on the sidewalk, both of them sensed right away something was wrong. Emily asked if I was sick, which Nathan quickly confirmed while throwing a worried look at me. I'd already given him the brief version of what happened when I spoke to him on the phone the day after Edward left. I shrugged now, dismissing his concern, as I handed him his coat, the one that had ticked Edward off. He put it in the car with a grimace he seemed unable to hide, his eyes speaking volumes. I looked away, focusing all my energy on Emily, who was eager to get going.

Even though there was a park literally right off my building, we went to Saint James Park because it was Emily's favorite. Nathan sent her ahead of us with a bag of breadcrumbs so she could feed the ducks, and we watched her as she rushed forward happily, all the while glancing from over her shoulder to make sure we followed. He guided me towards a bench nearby. We hardly said a word to one another since they came to pick me up.

The bench was just off the path and facing the lake. The London Eye was half hidden behind a bunch of Weeping Willows and the misty morning sky. On my right, only the top part of the Buckingham Palace was visible. A squirrel wandered aimlessly along the path, only to make a quick flee as soon as some kids tried to chase him. It ran in Emily's direction, but she didn't notice him.

"You're not looking any better than you sounded on the phone."

I tore my eyes away from the squirrel at the hidden criticism in his voice. His concern was endearing, but I rolled my eyes nonetheless. "Gee, thanks, Nathan. You sure know how to pay a compliment to a girl."

"You know what I mean," he contradicted me, giving me that disapproving look, the one he'd usually use on Emily.

"I just need a few days to pull myself together, that's all," I said with much more confidence than I felt. The truth was that the entire incident had left me shaken. I'd never thought _we_ would have to face something like this, not even with me being away. I didn't think we were one of _those_ couples. I thought we were stronger than that, stronger than anything. Learning that we weren't hurt me, like a slap across my face, one you hadn't expected.

"I'm sorry. If only – "

His voice trailed off as I shook my head. "None of that. I told you on the phone. I don't accept your apology because you've got nothing to apologize for."

"It was _my_ coat," he grumbled.

"It could have been my friend Ivan's tee shirt and it wouldn't matter."

"Don't tell me you think it's _your_ fault," he stared at me incredulously.

"No. Well, yes, maybe, but not in the way you think." He gave me that attentive look, so I continued. "Maybe I've been… over-confident about us. Maybe I should have seen this coming."

He didn't contradict me, but I didn't think he agreed. His face was set in a frown, as if he was displeased with something. He didn't say anything for a long moment. Then he looked up at me. "This was your first big argument in, what? Nearly five years now?" I nodded, unsure where this was going. "Maybe you should consider yourself lucky."

"Maybe," I shrugged, stuffing my hands in my pocket against a sudden gust of wind. "I wish someone would say it to my heart, though."

Our eyes met, and the sadness in my voice was reflected in his stare. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but something in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked away from me. "Not too close to the fence, Emily!" he called out to Emily, who was leaning over to feed a pair of swans who floated on the lake close by. She waved at us; we waved back. I watched her as she spoke to the swans. One of them seemed to reply in some unintelligible bird language. I almost envied her complete blitheness, and then I remembered the story of her mother leaving, and couldn't help the pang of shame that hit me.

"Please don't tell her," I said. He brought his eyes back to me; my abrupt request seemed to puzzle him. But this kid had enough troubles of her own; it didn't seem fair to drop mine on her as well, even if unintentionally. "It's hard enough without having to think how to explain this to her."

He nodded, as if my stammered explanation was enough. "Now you know how I feel most of the time." He chuckled darkly. "Don't worry. I wasn't going to say anything. Some things should be off limit for this girl," he chuckled, but the sound was bitter.

Both of us should have known better, though.

"Bella," said Emily when she joined us a while later. She said my name in that practical, businesslike manner that always made me stand on my guard. "Why couldn't Edward stay for a few days longer?"

I tensed, but she didn't seem to notice. Nathan clearly did, because his eyes were on mine as soon as she mentioned Edward's name. I saw distress reflecting in his stare. I took a deep breath before I replied. "Because he had to go back to school, sweetie."

"Is he a student like me?"

"More like your dad's students."

She nodded, as if she understood the difference. "What does he study?"

"Music." I couldn't help the smile from sneaking into my voice. "He plays the piano."

"It sounds like fun. I wouldn't want to miss school too if I could play the piano all day. In my school, they make us study spelling and math and geography instead." Her little nose wrinkled, as if this fact displeased her. Then she looked at me sort of wistfully. "I wish he stayed though. I really wanted to meet him."

"He came to see Bella, little one, not you." Nathan kept his tone light as he taunted her, but his gaze flickered to mine, and there was a hint of anxiety in there still.

"Can I see him the next time, please?" she asked me, ignoring her father completely as she turned her back on him.

"Of course," I replied weakly. If there's going to be a next time, I added voicelessly, fighting back tears.

xoxox

When Edward left, I suspected it wasn't over yet. I wasn't sure why at the time. An instinct, most likely. I dismissed it. We were both upset, and I was sure he was as disappointed as I was about the way things turned out to be. So I didn't think much of it. I tried to push the whole incident to the back of my mind and go on with my life, which had just become very busy. But the weeks that followed were a final confirmation to those ongoing suspicions. Something was definitely going on. At first it made sense than I kept missing him at home or on his cell phone whenever I called. It was the beginning of the semester, and along with his absence, he probably had a lot to do. But one week followed another, and he wasn't even returning my calls, no matter how many messages I'd left him.

I'd never felt more desperate, more helpless. I hardly slept, stupidly thinking this would be when he'd call me back, and sleep deprivation was beginning to take its toll on me. Rehearsals on _Cinderella_ began, and I had to focus twice as hard not to mess things up. The most professional thing to do was to keep the mess of my personal life far away from the rehearsal room, but it was more difficult than I thought, nearly impossible to do. None of the staff seemed to notice, because no one questioned me about it, so I guessed I was managing rather well.

I knew exactly what it was about, of course, but I couldn't believe he would be so petty as to still hold a grudge over something that had never been an issue to begin with. I thought he'd realized by now it was all a huge misunderstanding. I thought he had accepted my explanation about why Nathan's coat was in my room, but he clearly hadn't.

Edward avoiding me (because obviously, this was what he'd been doing) was unbearable, worse than the lack of sleep. The long time I spent outdoors rehearsing, combined with time difference, prevented me to call Alice or Anya to ask if they knew more about him. But even if I did have the time, a part of me wasn't willing to share this particular problem with them. It sounded so silly, so absurd. When I finally managed to catch Alice on the phone, it turned out she hadn't spoken to Edward for days as well, both of them being too busy, she reasoned. I didn't bother to disagree with her assumption.

So I was on my own on this, and I had absolutely no idea how to set things right again. It didn't help that he was ignoring me so completely. There was no way to get to him.

I tried to use work as distraction and drown myself in it to numb the misery rather than the other way around. We hadn't even opened _Cinderella_ yet, but there were already talking about the two shows we were to put on during the holiday season, _The Snow Queen_, and, inevitably, _The Nutcracker_. Since their running periods were tight, we were to rehearse them almost simultaneously through November and most of December, and that meant more busy times, which I embraced. This was exactly what I needed, what I hoped for. The timing couldn't have been more right.

Although I succeeded to keep my troubles away from my superiors at work, I wasn't doing such a good job hiding it from my friends. I hadn't told Ivan and Jenna anything until Edward was away, but it turned out I didn't have to say anything. We met them for dinner once, and Ivan said he sensed right away something wasn't right. Both of them were incredibly patient with me ever since I'd told them. They listened to my rants, they took me out, I even flew to Glasgow with Jenna one weekend to meet her parents.

And there were Nathan and Emily. Nathan still felt insanely guilty about the whole thing, no matter how many times I tried to dissuade him. I could tell Emily sensed my distress, but I chose to stick to my former decision not to tell her the reason behind it. If I were her only female role model, I was going to do this right. She was a child – a smart one, but a child nonetheless. It didn't feel right to share this with her. Nathan just told her I was homesick, which she accepted, although not whole-heartedly, I thought.

So my days were thankfully hectic. It was the evenings I feared most, the time I went back to an empty apartment, and loneliness echoed from each and every wall. I missed him. Every day that passed without speaking to him made it worse. If only he'd tell me something – anything – even that he couldn't stand hearing my voice. I snorted to myself. I was stooping to sadomasochism. I must be really out of it. But at this point, anything was better than this hostile silence.

I didn't know what was so different about tonight, but when I dialed the number in our apartment in New York, knowing all I'd get would be the machine, this sudden anger overtook me. I padded restlessly across the living room floor as I waited for it to pick up, and of course, it didn't fail. The sound of our answering machine was the only constant voice in my life, the only thing I could rely on. And right now, it infuriated me.

"Edward, are you there?" I asked sort of impatiently. I walked over to the window and tapped my fingers against the cool glass, staring at the darkness outside. "Please pick up if you're there." On the other end, there was no response – not a word, not a rustle, nothing; just the usual static noise of an overseas line. I sighed. I was close to losing it; I could feel it. Each and every one of my nerves was on edge. "Look, you can't keep doing that. We need to talk. So please, call me as soon as you hear this, okay? I don't care what time it is or if you wake me, just… please?" Don't break down now, I told myself fiercely. I paused, and took a shaky breath. "I love you," I whispered, as if it mattered, and hung up before he could hear the sob that threatened to choke me.

I cried myself to sleep that night, just one of many. I kept having this feeble hope that maybe this would be the night he'd finally come back to his senses and call me back. This hope never came true, and I knew I was stupid to keep it up. But if hope was the only thing I could hold on to it, the only chance I had, I meant to stick with it.

The sound was distant, coming through depths, like hearing your name being called from underwater. It took me a moment to realize I was sleeping, and another to realize it was the phone that woke me up. I groaned and pulled the covers over my head, only to throw them back a second later when I remembered the message I'd left Edward who knew how many hours ago. I raced down the hall, not even feeling the cold against my bare feet, and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

But the voice, although familiar, was not the one I'd expected to hear. "Bella?"

"Alice?" Disappointment filled me to the core. I collapsed on the sofa behind me, pulling my knees to my chest against this sudden sense of loss. Then, about a moment later, my eyes snapped open when I caught sight of the clock. It showed four forty two A.M. Great. "Do you realize what time it is?" I groaned as a shiver went through me. All I wanted to do was crawl back to bed, where the covers were still warm.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not!" she chirped, sounding way more awake than she should have been.

"Alice, are you drunk?" In my hazy state of mind, I couldn't even remember what time it was in New York.

"No, I'm at the hospital!"

I straightened up as my heart began to hammer against my chest. I felt a rush of panic settle over me. An accident. It had to be that. But which one of them? Anya, Jasper, Edward…? "The hospital? What – " My voice trailed off when my mind finally processed she sounded way too cheerful for it to be bad news. "Alice, what's going on?"

"It's _Auntie_ Alice, thank you very much," she corrected me, and squealed quite loudly.

It took me a second to get it, but when it finally sank in, I nearly leaped off the sofa. "Rosalie had the baby?" I exclaimed as realization crashed over me.

"Jade Adrianne Cullen, six pounds, fifteen inches, all fingers and toes are perfectly in place! I just saw her and she's _perfect_. Cutest creature I've ever seen!"

But I hardly heard her squealing anymore. My fuzzy mind was still trying to wrap itself around the fact that Emmett and Rosalie had just become parents, and I wasn't there to witness it.

"You sound like I woke you up," Alice's casual tone broke into my state of dazed wonderment. She sounded slightly calmer now.

"You did," I pointed out, yawning hugely. I didn't care now. I was so excited about what she'd just told me. I got up and began to pace the room, suddenly restless.

But then she spoke again and brought my grim reality back. "Are you serious? I thought Edward – "

"Edward didn't call me." It hurt much more than I thought it would.

"What? He disappeared with his phone a while ago, so I thought…" She let her voice trail, as if she realized she was saying too much. Then she let out a shaky laugh, and cleared her throat with what sounded like discomfort. "Well, I'm sure he didn't want to wake you. He probably meant to tell you in the morning."

"Probably," I echoed, because it was safer than telling her he'd been avoiding me for a little over three weeks. "How are Emmett and Rosalie?"

"Rosalie is finally asleep, the poor thing. Emmett is ecstatic; so hyper it's ridiculous. I went outside to call so I can't put him on the phone just now."

"I'll call him later," I told her, sitting down again. All of a sudden, loneliness was overwhelming. I could imagine them camping at the hospital's waiting room, sharing bitter coffee and snacks and whatnot, with hyper Emmett and Alice leading the improvised party. My heart ached to join them. "Tell them I said congratulations," I added, hoping she wouldn't hear my voice break.

"Sure thing, girlfriend. Go back to sleep. I'm going to take pictures of the little cutie right now for you."

"Thanks, Alice," I whispered, blinking against the unwanted presence of tears.

Too wrapped in her newly-found happiness, she didn't notice. "G'night!"

xoxox

The news about Emmett and Rosalie's baby got me into this crazy energy boost. I drifted into frenzied slumber after Alice woke me up, but it didn't last long. Once I jumped out of bed a few hours afterwards, I couldn't sit still. I headed for the House much earlier than needed, simply because I was scared of breaking something in the apartment. As I rushed down the street, the sun was breaking through the clouds. I smiled and looked up, basking in its sudden warmth. I could almost feel how it was taking everything with it – the pain, the sorrow, the hopelessness – leaving me with nothing but this blessed joy.

Luckily, I wasn't the first to arrive. Ivan and Jenna were sitting outside the building with two of our colleagues, Julie and Nora, who were having a smoke. They were all having coffee by the looks of it, and I half regretted my decision to skip today's coffee. I was too keyed up as it was; I didn't need the extra energy. I was halfway to turn back and get something from a nearby café, when Ivan suddenly looked up and saw me. My smile widened as I waved at him. His jaw dropped as he did a double take.

"Oh my, is that a smile I see curling on her face?" He asked, loud enough for me to hear it. He took off his glasses (with strange, sparkling orange frame this time), making a whole show out of cleaning them before putting them back on to give me another look.

"Good morning," I singsonged, kissing each of them on the cheek.

"Yup, it's definitely suspicious," Jenna remarked before sipping her coffee. She was observing me over the rim of her plastic cup.

Ivan's brow furrowed as he gave me an accusing look. "Who are you and what have you done with our Bella?"

"And are you as good a dancer as she is? Otherwise we're totally screwed."

"A person can't show up to work in a good mood anymore?" asked Nora, squishing her cigarette beneath her boot.

"Not with the face _she_'s been pulling off for the last month," Ivan looked at me pointedly. Then, in the next second, he leaped to his feet and literally threw himself at me. "Oh my God, don't tell me, don't tell me! _He_ finally called, you made up and had hot makeup phone sex all night!"

A chorus of 'ewwww's with me on the lead followed his gleeful exclamations, accompanied with:

"Gross, Ivan!"

"Someone put a muzzle on him, please!"

"Spare us!"

"I'm better off not knowing what _phone_ sex means!"

Jenna was the one who finally released me from his death grip, stuffing a muffin into his mouth.

"My story is much more innocent, I promise," I laughed as he had no choice but chew on the muffle or choke on it.

"_Anything_ is more innocent than that dirty mind of his," Julie scowled at him.

"My version is _clearly_ far more interesting," Ivan said, sticking his tongue at me. It was covered with remainders of chocolate. This was probably why the dirty look he aimed at me hardly had any effect at all. "Well, what happened, then?"

"Rosalie had the baby last night!"

Muffin crumbs flew ever each way as he began to bounce. "Eeeep! A girl, right?"

"_Yes_! Here, I just got some pictures!"

Jenna's brow creased in confusion while Ivan leaped forward, snatched my phone, and began to sift through the photos of baby Jade. "Wait, go back, who's Rosalie?"

Ivan looked up to scowl at her. "My mind may be dirty, but at least _I_ pay attention!"

"Rosalie is Edward's sister-in-law. And she just had her first baby last night."

"_Oh_!" Jenna jumped. "Let me see, let me see!"

They all huddled over my phone then, and 'awww'ed over every photo, until it was time to go in. I felt a little swell of pride, completely irrational considering Rosalie and I weren't even related… yet. I didn't want to dwell over how relevant this last additional thought was just now. I didn't want anything to spoil this day for me.

"So he didn't call you," Ivan told me as we made our way inside eventually.

I frowned and snatched my phone back. "No. But thank you for reminding me."

"Oh, honey! He _will_ call. And if you're not willing to have phone sex with him, tell him _I_ will most certainly be more than willing – "

"Never stop trying, Ivan," I laughed, snatched his hat, and made a run for it. Everyone knew that messing with Ivan's accessories meant war declaration.

xoxox

That evening, I called Emmett. I hesitated at first. I didn't know if they were still at the hospital, and if he was home, I didn't want to bother him in case he was catching up on some sleep. But eventually, excitement won. I really wanted to talk to him.

His phone rang forever before a ragged voice answered. "Hello?"

And I didn't care if I woke him up or not. My heart was about to burst with emotion. "Hi, Daddy!"

But instead of the roaring laugh I'd expected, there was nothing but a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Bella."

And as soon as he said my name, I realized my mistake. "Edward?"

"Umm, Emmett is not here right now," he said, and it sounded so normal, as if the last four weeks had never happened. "How – how are you?"

"Honestly? Not so great." I wasn't sure if I should be pissed off at him, because even now he sounded unwilling to speak to me, or be ecstatic because I finally got to hear his voice after all this time.

"Look, I'm… I know I should have called," he said softly. There was still this reluctance in this admittance, though, like he was forced to speak with a relative he really hated. "Not just about the baby."

"I was really worried," I heard myself say. The truth was I was furious with him for ignoring me that way, for not wanting to speak to me even now, but it was all gone once I heard his voice. I didn't know when I'd get to talk to him again, and I didn't want to spend the little time I had on pointless arguments.

"I know. I'm sorry."

I waited for him to say more, but instead there was this really long pause. I didn't break it, because I felt the next step should be entirely up to him. He must have heard some of my messages, if not all of them. He knew how concerned I was; he knew he was the cause of my ongoing anxiety. But he said nothing, so I decided to drop it. It wasn't the time or the place. I stuck to the reason I called. "So you're an uncle now, huh?"

He laughed softly, as if he couldn't hold back the sound. "She's so tiny. I wish you could see her."

My throat felt tight with tears. For a moment he sounded like Edward, _my_ Edward, not this angry man I hardly knew, the one who actually believed I was unfaithful to him.

But then, as if he realized it, his tone hardened again. "Oh, here's Emmett." There was an abrupt sound of phone switching hands, an unintelligible murmur, and then he was gone. Only when Emmett's booming voice came through, I realized he didn't say goodbye.

xoxox

Emmett having his first baby brought us surprisingly closer together. I found myself calling him more often than I'd ever done before, not just since I got here, but since I knew him. He never hung up on me, not even when he was busy. He was always listening, always in a good mood, even after sleepless nights. We spoke mostly during his shift with the baby, when Rosalie got some sleep. There was something really special forming between us, a bond I'd never expected to be created. He was like the older brother I'd never had. And with the absence of his own brother in my life, it wasn't a substitution, but something that was getting dangerously, pathetically close to one. It was as if an unconscious part of me thought that through speaking to his brother, I'd somehow have a hold on Edward, that it was better than having absolutely no hold at all.

In one of our random conversations, when I told him about my concern I might be bothering him, he dismissed me with a snort. "Please. I don't mind. You're not bothering me. We hardly go out since we brought her home, so it's like we're trapped here, always with the same people. I actually feel privileged you're calling _me_ instead of that idiot brother of mine."

He meant it as a joke, and I knew he was expecting a backfire, but my mind was coming up empty on one. "I, umm… I haven't spoken to Edward in a while," I admitted, blushing even though he wasn't there to make fun of it.

"What's a while? Two days, three hours and twenty four seconds?" he asked, still in that light tone.

"More like since he came over here," I whispered. "Almost five weeks now."

"_What_?" Laughter switched into outrage. "But he told me everything was fine now, that you cleared things out – "

The statement was cut off abruptly as if he felt he said too much, but he'd already made the mistake of letting me know he knew what it was all about. Not that I minded. "It's okay if he told you. I don't mind. I've got nothing to hide."

On his end there was silence, as if he considered my words. "He thinks you're cheating on him."

"I know," I sighed. "I didn't… I mean, I would never…" Speaking came with difficulty with those tears that were suddenly streaming down my cheeks. Frustration was quick and painful to take over. Why wouldn't he believe me?

"Why haven't you said anything sooner?"

I sniffed, forcing myself to get a grip. I wasn't holding it for five weeks just to completely fall apart now. "Because I didn't think it was a big deal at first… and then because I figured you had too much on your mind as it is – "

"I thought you knew me better than that, silly," he chided me gently, and the care in his voice only made me cry harder. "If you need to talk about something, anything, I'm here. And if my brother doesn't treat you like he should, I need to know about it so I can kick his ass."

For a second, I feared he meant it literally. He sounded so serious. And somehow he knew exactly what to say. I laughed through tears. "Don't hurt him."

"Don't worry, honey. I'll talk some sense to him, no physical damage involved. And everything will be okay." There was a faint sound in the background, one I'd come to recognize by now. "Daddy's coming, sweetie." I smiled. I'd never heard Emmett's voice so tender before. "I have to go, Bella, I'm sorry. I'll call you back when I can. And don't worry about anything. I'm on it."

"Thanks, Emmett."

I took a deep breath, and wiped the remaining tears from my face. There was no reason to cry. Emmett would take care of everything. I felt bad about throwing myself at him that way, but knowing he was in the secret lifted my spirit a little. I trusted him completely. Everything would be okay. It had to be.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen – Edward**

"Have you completely lost your mind?"

This was how Emmett greeted me when he opened the door to his place. The question, along with the deadly glare that accompanied it, caught me completely off-guard. It had been a little over a week since Emmett and Rosalie brought baby Jade home. I didn't want to miss school, and I couldn't miss work, but every hour in-between was spent at their place. My mother was staying with them for a few weeks to help with the baby (my father flew back and forth, as he couldn't take the time off from work), and Alice pretty much camped there as well. It was nice. It got us all closer together. It was like living in a bubble, in an apartment shut against the outside world, fearing that the autumn chill would harm the baby. All this time Emmett had been smiling like a fool, even when the baby wasn't next to him. This hostility that came out of nowhere confused me more than it intimidated me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, shutting the door behind me. It was unusually quiet. I looked around, then back at him. He sighed, and for a second I hoped it meant he was calmer, but his hands were still clenched into fists, so I guessed it wasn't quite the case.

"Mom went out to get some things. Rosalie is feeding the baby. It's just you and me."

The look he gave me was hard, unforgiving. A part at the back of my head told me I already knew what it was all about, when his next words confirmed it.

"You lied to me."

Too panicked he somehow found it all out, I stammered again, "What are you talking about?"

"You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about," he spattered.

I found myself flinching against the words. His tone wasn't higher than a whisper, as he clearly didn't want to disturb Rosalie and the baby, but somehow it was worse than him raising his voice.

"I talked to Bella. I know you haven't called her like you promised me you would. I know you've been _ignoring_ her since you got back."

It wasn't really a question, so I didn't bother to deny or confirm.

"Are you deliberately trying to ruin everything? Why are you being so stubborn? Why can't you accept that it was nothing but a misunderstanding?"

"I don't see how any of this is your business, Emmett," I snapped.

"In the past ten days I talked to her much more than you do. Much more than you'd done in five weeks. _That_ makes it my business. Because right now, dude, I have much more sympathy for her than I do for you, and I don't care which one of you is right."

It hurt. Emmett and I had never had many arguments, not even as kids. And I didn't realize how close he and Bella had become in such a short time. I didn't even know they spoke so often. Childish resentment washed over me. That was an unfair move on her side. He was _my_ brother; he should be on _my_ side, not be swept over to hers. "I don't know what she told you – "

"She didn't have to tell me anything. You should have heard her voice this last time. She's worried sick about you – not that you deserve it." He narrowed his eyes at me. "If you're going to come up with an excuse, I hope for you it's a good one, because my patience is short."

"I don't have an excuse," I whispered. I walked over to the sofa and sat down. I could still feel his menacing glare on my back. Then there was a sigh, and suddenly he was in front of me, sitting across from me.

"Why would you be such a jerk, Edward?"

I heaved a long sigh, suddenly exhausted. "Because I can't handle this. I can't handle her."

"And you think, what, that the longer you avoid it, things will just disappear?" He locked his eyes with mine, but he didn't seem as angry now, just desperate to understand. "Do I really need to tell you things don't work that way?"

"Look, I know what I'm doing is wrong," I cut him off. "I know I'm hurting her – "

"Is that what it's all about, then? Hurting her?" He didn't try to hide his horror.

"No. Of course not."

"Then get yourself together, Edward, because you won't achieve anything by keeping up this act."

My mother's return was perfectly timed with his statement. Both Emmett and I rushed forward to help her unpack the groceries she brought in, but the moment she had her back turned, he pinned me with a stare. The demand – _call her_ – was clear even while he didn't actually say anything.

xoxox

A few days later, I made a stop at the administration office to pick up Bella's diploma. The ceremony had taken place about a week before, and since Emmett and Rosalie were confined in their apartment because of the baby, I joined my aunt and uncle to support Alice. Alice said she could probably pick up Bella's diploma herself, but I said I'd do it, as part of the pretense that everything was fine. It was before Emmett learned the truth, and I knew they'd all expected me to do it. And now he did know, but I still couldn't go back on my promise.

I waited by the counter as the secretary went to find it in the other room. I took out my phone and texted Anya, asking if she was available for coffee. Right before I got a chance to send the message, I heard my name being called. I looked up instinctively, thinking it would be the secretary, back with what I needed, but soon I realized I was wrong.

"I thought it was you," Madame La Pierre smiled at me. Her smile was warm, like you would welcome an old friend. "How are you?"

I tried not to resent her. The most childish thing to do was to lay all the blame on her. It was her fault Bella got the audition, her fault that she was so far away and that things had been as bad as they were now. As much as I wanted to say it all in her face, I kept quiet. "I'm good. Thank you."

"I've just spoken with my friend in England the other day. I hear Bella is doing well."

I held back a snort. I could bet she was, with all those men she's been hanging out with. Realizing her teacher was awaiting some sort of a reply on my side, I murmured in agreement. This was when the secretary got back, and handed me a thin envelope. Madame La Pierre nodded as if she knew exactly what it was.

"Give her my best wishes, the next time you speak to her."

"I will." I was having a hard time directing my gaze with hers. Luckily she was gone soon afterwards, and I didn't have to pretend anymore.

I gave up on the text for Anya, and decided to just go and find her at work. It was a surprisingly beautiful day, and I couldn't bear the thought of being cooped up in their Emmett and Rosalie's apartment until sundown. I hadn't seen Anya for weeks now (apart from briefly, in the ceremony the other week), and this was one friendship I didn't want to neglect. Besides, after my conversation with Emmett, and after he got Alice in the secret and made her give me a similar lecture, I really needed to see a friendly face.

She was just finishing a class when I found the studio she'd been teaching in. The door was open, so I made the mistake of stepping inside, only to be nearly run over by a group of shrieking ten year olds in pink dance outfits. There couldn't be more than fifteen girls there, but my ears were still ringing when they finally left. I looked up to find an extremely amused Anya smiling at me.

"How can you handle them?" I asked, feeling new admiration to her.

She snorted and gave me this superior look. "You can hear a pin drop during my class."

"Somehow, I seriously doubt that," I laughed.

"What are you doing here?"

I wanted to tell her the truth, that I needed to spend some time away from my family, but I lost my nerve as soon as I spoke. "It's been a while since we had coffee together." Then I thought that maybe I should have called her first. "You don't have another class now, do you?" I asked, suddenly afraid that she had. It would leave me no choice but heading to Emmett's place.

"No, I don't," she replied slowly, and gave me a closer look. "Is everything okay?"

It was as if she saw right through me. I sighed. "I'll tell you on the way."

I waited for her to change, and then we headed off to Maddie's. I remembered that time a long time ago when I used to meet Bella there. We used to frequent it until very recently, when she left. We knew pretty much everyone in the staff, and so it didn't come as a surprise to me when the waitress who handed us a menu asked me how Bella was doing. I stammered a quick reply about her being happy in London, and hoped she wouldn't ask me more so I wouldn't need to handle the answer. When she left, I caught Anya observing me with that same intense look as before.

"What?"

"Something's wrong." It was a determination rather than assumption. I didn't know if she gathered that from my sudden decision to meet up with her, or from my rather lame reply to the waitress' query. Either way, she seemed to be sensing something was going on, so there was no point in contradicting her.

"I had a fight with Emmett. And then with Alice. I don't feel like going there right now."

"You can always head home."

I shook my head. "They'll know what I'm doing. Besides, I want to see the baby."

"You fought with Alice? Must be something serious. I thought you two were really close."

"We are. I think it's the first fight we ever had." She didn't ask anything, but all the questions were there in her attentive gaze. I sighed. "I've done something. Emmett found out I was lying to him. He got Alice involved. It got nastier."

She hesitated. "This has anything to do with Bella?" I just gaped at her, unsure how she put two and two together. She shrugged. "You were acting funny when the waitress asked you about her."

"Bella is the reason I had this fight with Emmett."

"I don't understand."

I wavered. "I'm not sure if I want to tell you this. You might want to join them."

"I won't," she promised.

"You haven't heard it yet," I grumbled, and slid my elbows off the table when the waitress came back with our coffee.

"You've done something that has to do with Bella and got you to fight with your brother and Alice?" she asked, as if she needed to break out the story for herself.

"I've been avoiding Bella's phone calls since I got back from London."

Anya had already heard about the incident in London. I told her the whole story the last time we spoke. It was before I'd made the conscious decision to avoid Bella. At that point, I kept telling myself I should return her calls, but couldn't bring myself to.

"She told Emmett, and he gave me a whole lecture about morality. And then he did something worse and told Alice, and she yelled at me I was being paranoid. They keep pressing me to call her, which is why I'm not thrilled about going back to Emmett's."

"You're not going to call her?"

"I am, when _I'm_ ready for it, not when they decide I am."

"Look, I really don't want to take any sides in this. Bella is my friend, and you – "

"I know. I'm not asking you to choose sides. I know it must be uncomfortable to be in the middle of it. I just really needed to see a friendly face," I repeated my previous unspoken thought.

"I'm here," she smiled, but there was a hint of disapproval in her eyes that told me that knowingly or not, she'd already chosen a side.

xoxox

We kept a light conversation as we walked to the subway station later. As we passed by a convenient store nearby, I saw something that made me halt.

"What is it?" Anya asked me, her eyes following mine.

"Hang on a second," I said, already halfway to the postcard stand I spotted. I reached out for the postcard that got my attention. It was a photo of the amusement park in Coney Island, the one Bella planned on taking me to on my birthday. I remembered the postcard I got from her a few days before I left for London. It was still on the coffee table on the living room, buried under a few music books so I wouldn't have to face her handwriting. With everything that happened, she'd never made good on her promise to take me to the place in the photo.

I looked at the postcard for a long time. I knew there was no way I'd dare to send it to her now, after not making contact with her for so long. Knowing her, she would probably tear it in two as some sort of revenge. But in my head I was already composing a message to go with the picture.

I bought it anyway, even though I knew I wouldn't send it anywhere in the near future. When I joined Anya out in the street again, she had that know-all expression on, as if she knew exactly what it was all about. And knowing her, she probably did.

xoxox

It was amazing how this miniature person, barely two weeks old, managed to wrap us all around her tiny finger. I had never been too keen on babies, but I wasn't very objective when it came to my niece. I was enchanted with everything that had to do with her. I could watch her for hours without getting tired and forget everything. I was nearly late for work the other day when she fell asleep against my shoulder, and I was too wrapped up in her warmth, in her sweet babyish scent I felt rooted to the spot.

It was a new experience for us younger people. Everything Jade did fascinated us, whether it was shifting in her sleep or looking around curiously or twisting her lips in a way that made her look as if she was smiling. My mother made fun of us. She'd been through that with both Emmett and I, and with Alice since we had spent our babyhood together, and she found our behavior far more entertaining. I guessed anyone would. Emmett and I especially made fools out of ourselves, making faces to make the baby laugh. Mostly we made the adults laugh instead whereas Jade just stared at us, probably wondering who were these two grown men who were acting so funny.

I'd never found much sense in trying to guess who a baby looked like. There was something unfair in trying to settle that. Shouldn't it look like itself? Although it was probably too early to tell, Jade seemed to be taking after Rosalie's fair complexion, and her eyes looked grayish-blue, like Emmett's. When she smiled, a tiny dimple formed on her chin, much like Emmett's. Other than a few distinctive features, she was genuinely herself, all rosy skin and chubby cheeks and miniature fingers.

On Friday, I showed up at Emmett and Rosalie's place right after school. My father was supposed to go on a flight from Seattle later that evening to join us for the weekend, which added to the regular excitement in the air. Things lightened up between Emmett and me in the past few days, even though he knew I hadn't called Bella yet. No one could stay furious in here, where the baby radiated so much love.

I didn't stay for dinner that evening. I was tired, and all this family tightness was starting to get under my skin. I needed to be alone for a while. I was so tired I was sure I was going to collapse on the bed as soon as I got home, but to my great annoyance, it was all gone while I stepped out of their building. Taking a shower wasn't such a brilliant move either; it woke me up even further.

I sat by my piano, trying not to feel guilty by the way I'd been neglecting it recently. I hardly practiced properly since… since Bella had left.

I didn't open any of my music books. Instinctual playing was always the best distraction. I let my fingers flutter against the keys for a few moments. I wanted to compose a lullaby for my niece. I knew Rosalie would be reduced to tears by it. But instead, I found myself play something I composed years ago, although I couldn't remember exactly when. Probably around the time my grandfather died. One grim melody followed another, and I'd become so engrossed by the music that by the time there was someone at the door, I didn't hear anything until the doorbell disrupted the music.

"Oh!" I gasped when I found Claire on the doorway.

"I'm sorry to bother you. I heard music and I knew it must mean you're home…" Her voice trailed as she flashed me an apologetic grin. "I haven't seen you in a while, so I thought I'd come up and say hi."

"I think we operate on different schedules," I replied, returning her grin.

"Has to be it," she agreed. I hadn't seen her for so long her hair seemed longer, and redder. I barely remembered that glimmer in her eyes. It was good to see her.

"I've hardly been home recently. My brother just had a baby." I could feel that proud, idiotic smile find its way to my lips again.

"Oh my God! Congratulations! Is it their first?"

"Yeah. A girl. We're all huge suckers for her already."

"Aww, I bet!" she laughed. "Hey, listen. I was about to get some dinner. There's enough for two if you want to join me."

Only when she said that, I realized I was starving. "Sure, I'd love to." I grabbed my keys and cell phone and followed her downstairs.

It had hardly changed since the last time I'd been down there. The coffee table was the same hopeless mess as it had always been, if not worse. There was a pile of books on a small desk by the window. It was warm in her apartment, and I figured it was partly due to the oven that was just cooling down. I didn't recognize the scent, but whatever she was making, it smelt really good.

"Have a seat," Claire said, nodding towards a small dining table. Instead, I came over to the kitchen area to give her a hand. She smiled gratefully as she handed me some plates. We kept the conversation light as we set the table. Most of her questions evolved around the baby, my currently favorite subject. I was constantly amazed by this tiny girl who burst into our lives so suddenly. I could talk about her endlessly.

Claire had made tacos. I hadn't had those for ages. The last time was a few years ago, I thought, in Port Angeles with Emmett. I hardly remembered what it tasted like. It amused me that someone like her, who was so obviously not a Mexican, would even know how to make them, that for a second I feared that maybe she wasn't a good cook and I was better off at Emmett's, where my mother made the major part of their dinner tonight. But after my first bite, I was relieved to know my concerns had no grounds.

"This is pretty good," I commented, passing another taco onto my plate.

Claire looked outraged. "_Pretty_ good?" she echoed incredulously. "No one makes taco better than I do!"

"Fine, it's excellent, then," I rolled my eyes. "Mexican food isn't really my expertise, so you'll have to pardon my lack of understanding. My brother is crazy about Mexican food." I caught myself and snorted. "Well, my brother is crazy about _food_, full stop."

"What's your favorite, then?"

"Italian," I replied, my smile slowly fading. It reminded me too much of her, and of my promise to Emmett, which still held.

Luckily, Claire didn't notice my sudden change of mood. "So what have you been up to? Are you still working around the clock?"

"Working, studying, and I guess you can add babysitting to that list," I laughed. "Besides, you're one to talk. I started thinking you moved out."

"I'll never move out without saying anything. I was at my parents' in Chicago, and then I enrolled in this alternative acting workshop in a theatre downtown – don't ask!" She rolled her eyes as she sipped her water. Suddenly her eyes widened as she nearly choked on her drink. "_Oh_, but you never said how was London!" she half exclaimed, half cooed, her eyes glinting with expectation. Then, as if she found something in my face, her enthusiasm lessened almost instantly. "Not good news, I guess?"

"Let's just say I now know why you never want to go back there," I said dryly.

There was a pause, and then she shook her head. "You were there for barely three days. What could possibly happen for you to get into such a decision so fast?"

So I told her everything. She didn't cut me off once, as if she knew I needed to get it off my chest. She didn't call me names when I told her I'd been avoiding Bella ever since. She didn't say anything even when I was finished. It didn't encourage me.

"So are you going to give me a lecture about morality and yell at me now?" I asked with certain fear.

"If this is what you think, then you realize yourself what you're doing is wrong," she said gently. "Even if you don't believe her, even if you're crazy jealous that she's happy there without you. Are you really going to avoid her from now until she's back? And then what?"

I lowered my gaze to the traces of tomato sauce on my plate. I didn't have the answers.

"It's okay to be upset. A relationship can't be picture perfect all the time. But can you honestly tell me you stopped loving her because of what happened?"

"No," I whispered, and forced myself to meet her gaze. She nodded, as if she had anticipated this exact answer.

And of course, she had. "Exactly. So if it's my advice you want, you should swallow this stupid pride because it doesn't suit a sweet guy like you. You should go upstairs and call her and apologize for being such an ass for not doing it sooner. After you help me with the dishes, of course," she added, flashing an impish grin at me.

But I didn't call her right away. I couldn't; not before I knew exactly what I was going to say. I tossed and turned all night, thinking about it, although my body ached with exhaustion. Thankfully I didn't have plans for the following day; at least I wouldn't have to get to class all drowsy. I only fell asleep when morning crawled in through my bedroom window. I woke up around noon, but didn't get up for another half an hour or so. I just stared at the ceiling, thinking.

I knew Claire was right. She knew better how to say what everyone – Alice, Anya, Emmett – had tried. None had the same effect, and I wondered why it was. Maybe because she was objective; she'd never met Bella. But I didn't ponder over it. Of course I still loved Bella. Whatever happened in London didn't change the way I felt about her. I guessed I was just upset about her not making good on her promise. She said being away from one another would be good for us. So far, it wasn't.

I remembered the shock I felt while hearing her voice when I answered her call on Emmett's phone, a day after Jade was born. The ringing woke me up, and since Emmett was nowhere to be seen in the waiting room area, I answered, thinking it might be important. I was too groggy at the time to notice the number of a transatlantic call flashing on the screen. Recognition shook me awake violently. Her voice sounded closer that way than it had on the answering machine. I knew it was only a delusion of sorts, but to me, it had. Hearing her brought everything back. It wasn't until I heard her that I realized the enormity of the gap I was creating between us by deliberately keeping myself away from her. In a moment guilt washed over me, but even then, I cowered. I should have told her then. I should have told her how sorry I was for acting so dumb. I should have told her how much I loved her. But I couldn't bring myself to.

Only when I dialed, it dawned on me I had no idea what her schedule was. It was early evening in London, but if she started a new production, it was most likely she wasn't in yet. And I didn't know if I could gather enough courage to call later. But dialing was instinctive, and I found myself finishing the process before I could decide whether or not I should just hang up.

But she was home. After three rings, there was a rustling sound, like a phone being picked up. I found myself holding my breath. I didn't realize how much I missed her voice until this one anxious moment.

"Hello?"

The air left my lungs in one sharp whoosh at this unfamiliar yet clearly manly voice. I felt my jaw clench as I grabbed the phone tighter, refusing to believe it was happening. My first explanation was instinctive – it was a wrong number, a mistake. I'd done it before.

"Hello, is there anyone there?" the faceless voice asked again in this deep, pleasant accent.

Just a wrong number, I reminded myself, hoping it would get in my head that way. "I'm looking for Bella Swan," I said in a voice I couldn't believe was my own. I felt ridiculous by lack of confidence my voice carried. I paced the room praying he would apologize and tell me I had the wrong number, that there was no Bella Swan on his end.

But as it happened, my prayers hadn't been answered.

"One moment please."

My legs threatened to give way at this reply. I sank into the closest seat. It didn't stop the dizziness, the nausea that hit me full force. Revelation was overwhelming. I was right. All this time, I was right and they were wrong. She lied to me, to everyone.

"Hello?"

Her voice, the one I'd been longing to hear, was so sweet, so oblivious to my tumult of emotion. I had to close my eyes to compose myself, although I sensed it wouldn't hold long. I didn't want to hang up, but at the same time there was nothing I wanted more. So I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the attack, all the while wishing I'd never called her in the first place.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen – Bella**

The theatre, normally grand and enormous while swimming in misty stage lights, looked strangely bare. As intimidated as I had been by the sight of it filled with people each night, seeing it empty and in full light made my skin crawl. It lost some of its magic without the lighting, the constant murmur of the audience, the preparation of the orchestra. Like a ghost town, or a haunted house. Instead of it being comforting, it was oddly estranged.

It was Saturday, and we'd just been dismissed for a short lunch break after rehearsing all morning. It was raining out, so most of us stayed in. I ventured to one of the front rows in the stalls with a sandwich and a bottle of apple juice. Jenna disappeared backstage, on the way to the dressing rooms, I assumed. I bit into my sandwich and looked up, just in time to see Ivan staggering in my direction.

"Ugh!" he moaned, and collapsed on the seat next to mine. For the past few days, we'd all suspected he was coming down with something. He dismissed us; whether in denial or in attempt to hide the truth from us, I wasn't quite sure. But today he looked downright awful. A professional (or a nutcase) through and through, he insisted to take part in today's session.

Shaking my head, I handed him a tissue. He blew his nose loudly before flashing me a small grateful smile. It didn't reassure me like he probably meant it would. "Go home, Ivan."

"It's nothing. I'm fine. We're nearly done here anyway."

"_You_'re nearly done," I protested.

"And what is nobler than dying a slow, agonizing death onstage? It's every artist's dream," he said, batting his lashes, but the fit of coughs that followed his dramatic statement pretty much killed off the effect of it.

"Germs! Germs!" Jenna – who appeared out of nowhere – cried out, pretending to duck.

"Ah, shut up," he grumbled. I knew he was in a bad shape; he didn't even try to come up with a backfire.

"You're looking worse, mate," she noted, and there was a hint of disapproval in her voice.

"I can't leave."

"Fine. Stay and get us all sick. Can you imagine the headlines? _Cinderella's opening night postponed as the entire cast is poorly_."

"Do you want me to tell Vlad you want to go home?" I probed.

"I think Vlad can already see something's wrong with him," said Jenna. My gaze followed hers. Our main choreograph was standing at the farthest end of the stage, speaking to our manager and glancing at Ivan every now and again. Then a few minutes later, he approached us, his expression severe.

"How are you holding up, Ivan?" His voice was composed, as always. I'd never heard him raise his voice since I got here. His accent was funny: Russian and British and French, somehow at the same time.

Ivan's only reply was a miserable moan as he blew his nose again.

Vlad's forehead creased in a grimace. "Right. We'll try to cut today shorter. If you're feeling faint, just stay here and watch; will that be okay?"

"He'll do it," Jenna promised, and threw a glance at me. "We'll make sure he does."

Seemingly satisfied, he nodded to us and went back onstage. Ivan scowled at us. "I'm perfectly capable – "

"No, you're not. It's okay to step back sometimes, you know," I told him, gently pushing him back into his seat when he tried to stand up. Jenna and I got up, ready to go back onstage when we were being called. "Are you cold? Do you want me to get you your coat?"

"No. As if sitting aside is not humiliating enough."

"Ah, just come on, Bella," said Jenna, cutting his rant short. "He's just messing with us now." She meant it to sound dismissive, but I could read beyond the light, indifferent expression she'd attempted to put on. She was clearly worried.

Luckily, he didn't die by the time we finished this afternoon. Jenna and I went home with him just to make sure he was okay. He had to push us out of the door to send us away. I was grateful to finally get home. I really hoped I didn't catch that cold that Ivan had. I was so tired. I knew it was more likely to be sleep deprivation. It seemed to be finally catching up with me.

And so it happened that a little after six I was already back at my apartment in my most comfortable sweats, curled into a ball on the sofa in front of the TV. If I could just stay there like that for the next week, I wished, yawning. The commercials were too loud, so I reached for the remote to mute the sound, feeling my eyelids slowly drooping. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, there was a loud knock on the door that nearly sent me off the sofa with fright. My hands were still shaking when I unlocked the door.

"Bugger, did I wake you?" Nathan was standing on my doorway, looking distressed as he had always done.

I stared at him wide-eyed for just a second, still a little disoriented. "It's okay, I wasn't sleeping. I think," I rasped, and sidled to let him through. "What are you doing here?"

There was this amused spark in his stare as he eyed my socks (green with small red strawberries) and choice of sleepwear. He shook his head before he answered. "I just dropped Emily at the House. I was looking for you, but Alexandra said she hasn't seen you."

"We moved into the theatre a few days ago. I came here straight from there," I replied, as I finger-combed my hair. I hoped it didn't look too messed up. "Why were you looking for me?"

"I was at the library this morning and got you these," he said, nodding at a stack of books he carried. "I wanted to give them to you, but you weren't there, so…"

It was sweet of him to remember. "Thank you." I eyed them sort of fretfully. They looked huge and intimidating. "I don't know if I'll actually have time to – "

"It's alright. They're deposited under my name. Lecturers are allowed to keep books through the school year. Perfect scheme for slow readers." I cracked a smile, but he saw right through it. He grimaced. "I hoped you would be better by now, but you're in no better shape than you were a few weeks ago."

"Hmph," I narrowed my eyes at his observation. Throughout the day I was distracted by rehearsals and Ivan's illness, but now it was all coming back. I couldn't believe it'd been _weeks_. "I just…" I sighed and began to pace the room. "I don't know what else to do. I feel so…"

"At least you have a number you know you can reach him in."

"But that's just it, I _can't_ reach him there because he won't answer!"

"Give him time," he said, but his voice sort of wavered as if he knew how unconvincing it sounded.

"Sorry," I smiled sadly; "Time is just the thing I'm running out of." I shook my head. I really didn't mean that. I loved Edward. The fact I was angry with him could barely change that. The entire situation was extremely frustrating. "Do you need to be someplace?"

"No. I have about an hour before I have to pick up Emily. Why?"

"Join me for tea?"

He couldn't hide his grin. "Why, Miss Swan, you're getting more British than you realize," he taunted me as he followed me into the kitchen. Not wishing to linger on the issue that really bothered me, I asked him about one of the books he got me, knowing it would set him off speaking. Nathan _loved_ talking about his favorite books. And today I was content to just listen.

Now, a few months into my stay, I knew exactly where was what in the apartment I began to think of as my own. I didn't use the old kettle Cecilia used the first time we had tea here. Doreen's friend had an electrical kettle, so I just used that one. I let Nathan choose between the various brands of tea she kept in her cupboard. He rolled his eyes and said I was boring for choosing a regular tea; I teased him back, saying no sane person would have milk with raspberry tea. I was on my way to the fridge when the phone rang, cutting Nathan off mid-sentence.

"Could you get that, please?" I asked from over my shoulder as I bent towards the milk carton.

"Of course," he smiled and darted towards the living room. A moment later, the ringing stopped. Nathan's murmur was unintelligible to me as I poured the water into mugs and added milk into his. My face creased into a disgusted frown as I observed the creamy pink liquid. It looked wrong. How could anyone drink that was beyond me. I raised my head at the sound of his returning footsteps, but the teasing comment I had prepared froze on the tip of my tongue at the sight of his expression.

"What?" I asked. He just handed me the phone, his face still grave. I gave him another quizzical look before I held it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Who's that man?"

I gasped, but whether it was from the effect of hearing his voice for the first time in weeks, or from his unusually icy tone, I couldn't say. "Edward?"

"Who answered the phone?" he pressed, his voice growing impossibly colder, and sort of impatient.

"Edward, what – "

"Is it the same one the coat belongs to?" He cut me off again. "Or is it a different one?"

I glanced over my shoulder. Nathan was standing on the doorway, eyeing me anxiously. His expression finally made sense to me. He guessed who it was.

I shook my head, dismissing his concern, and walked over to the window. I couldn't believe Edward was talking to me like that. First he disappeared for nearly five weeks, and now when he finally called, this was what he had to say to me? "What the hell are you thinking?" I hissed, horrified with the thought that Nathan was there, witnessing all that.

"What am I _supposed_ to think, Bella?" he spattered, enraged. His tone was harsh, barely familiar to me. He sounded almost brutal.

"You're supposed to trust me!"

"You're not giving me any reason to!"

"Look, this is ridiculous – "

"Is it? I don't think so! You still haven't told me who was it!"

"I'm not telling you anything until you _calm down_!" I was taken aback by my own rising tone, but I didn't try to quiet it down. I was too furious to be sensible. There was so much bottled within me. I needed to let it out. "For the past six weeks you've been screening my calls, acting as if I don't exist, and now you expect me to answer your questions as if nothing happened? Well, forget it, Edward, I owe you nothing!"

"Bella – "

"_No_!" The intensity of my own aggression frightened me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Call me when you calm down, or don't bother to call at all." And with that, I hung up on him. I lowered the phone to the counter, and released the breath I didn't even realize I was holding. I turned quite fretfully, expecting to see Nathan there with that look of disapproval across his face, but he wasn't there. Gentleman as he was, he probably wanted to give me some privacy.

I couldn't believe what had just happened. We'd never had a fight as nasty before. We'd never even had a _fight_, full stop. I couldn't believe I spoke to him like that. I couldn't believe _he_ had the nerve to speak to me like that after all this time. I rubbed my temples. I could feel my blood sizzling in my veins, fury mixed with adrenaline. I wasn't proud of myself for losing my temper that way, because really, how different I was than him?

"Bella?"

I opened my eyes, not even realizing I shut them. Nathan was on the doorway again, concern reflecting in his dark gaze.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes," I replied decisively, but he didn't seem too convinced. "I'm sorry you had to see that," I added a little hesitantly. I was more than sorry. I was ashamed. More than anything, I was grateful Emily wasn't here with him.

"That's alright," he said. "I guess I sort of understand him."

"_Understand_ him?" I echoed incredulously. "Regardless of the fact that he's been ignoring me for the past six weeks, he acts as if he's the only one hurting, as if he's the only one who's lonely!"

"Try to see it from his perspective," he told me, his voice still calm. "You're the one who left. He didn't want this."

"I know," I whispered, lowering my head with sudden defeat, because in a way, I didn't want this either.

Neither of us said anything for a moment. Nathan sighed; I looked up at the sound. He meant to say something, when a loud ring pierced the silence. I started, but didn't pick up right away. Somehow I knew it was him again, but I wasn't sure I was strong enough to handle him. I didn't want to lose it again, and I didn't know if I had enough strength to hold myself together.

"Do you want me to get it?" asked Nathan, as if he could somehow sense my debate.

"No," I said, grabbing the phone. "It will probably make things worse." I took a deep breath, and accepted the call. "Hello."

"I'm calm." His voice, closer to the one I knew, softened me instantly. I closed my eyes, trying to resist its instant affect on me. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

I glanced at Nathan. He still looked worried. I shook my head, hoping he could see the reassurance in my eyes, and stepped out of the kitchen. I headed for the bedroom and shut the door. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. I don't know what's wrong with me – well, I do know." He paused, and I heard a low sigh. There was desperation to the sound. "I miss you, Bella."

I shut out against the new tenderness in his voice. The way he said my name made my heart ache. "If that's true, where have you been in the past six weeks?" I wasn't yelling this time, but I couldn't help sounding bitter.

"I know I made you worried. I know I hurt you. I should never have done that. I hate myself for doing that."

"Why, then?" I whispered, my throat tight with tears.

"I'm… not completely sure. I don't even know how to begin to apologize. I'm just… it's just… tough."

"Do you think it's easy for me? Do you think I don't miss you every single day? Do you have any idea what I've been through those last few weeks, trying to guess what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Go on. I deserve it."

"I'm glad you think so, but it's not why I'm telling you this."

There was a pause, and for a moment I thought the line disconnected, but then he whispered, "I really messed up."

It wasn't a question. I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. There was true remorse in his voice. I closed my eyes, letting it wash through me. All I really wanted was him to be there, and slowly wrap his arms around me. I held on to the phone as if it was an actual part of him. "Don't ever do that to me again," I heard myself choke out.

"I won't. I promise." His voice was full of emotion, reflecting my own. There was another pause. "So who is this guy?" He must have caught my impatient huff, because he laughed softly. "I didn't mean it like that."

I wasn't completely sure it was true, but I answered him anyway. "His daughter dances at my studio. I coach her sometimes. It's nothing you should worry about. Really."

"I know." The gentleness in his voice, only a distant memory at this point, brought fresh tears to my eyes. "I'm sorry I lost it. You're right. I should have known better." He let out short, sardonic laugh. "It feels like everyone is mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," I found myself whisper. For a moment, I wasn't even sure if I meant it.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," my voice broke. "But you have to understand that as long as I'm here, I have my own life. I'm not hiding anything from you. This is just how things are. This is how things _have_ to be. If you don't trust me, we'll never get this year over with."

"You're right." There was another pause. "I don't want to, umm, interrupt, if you have company."

I looked at the door. I completely forgot Nathan was out there. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"I'll be here," he murmured, and slowly hung up.

I just sat there for a moment, calming down. Only when I placed the phone on the bed, I became aware of the constant thump of my heart. I washed my face and made sure the tears were all gone before I joined Nathan in the kitchen again. He looked up as soon as I walked in, and I managed a small reassuring smile.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Everything's okay now."

When Nathan was gone, for the first time in weeks, Edward answered when I called. And along with the tender words and soft whispers and sweet promises, I could feel the traces of anger dissolve. That night I drifted into blissful dreamless sleep, at last, feeling more reassured than I had been in days.

xoxox

The next few days had gone by in a haze. Things between Edward and me got better, Ivan got well (just in time to tease me about the first fact, of course), _Cinderella_ opened. On my weekly round of calls I actually caught everyone at home, for the first time in weeks – my mom and Phil, Charlie, the Cullens, even Alice and Anya. I should have been dead on my feet, but I wasn't. I had never felt better.

About a week into the production, Nathan called to ask if I could come and watch Emily for a few hours. Only after pressing him long enough, he let it slip that he had a date. A guest researcher at his department, he said.

"I thought you weren't going on dates," I teased him when I got to their place straight from the theatre. It was unusually quiet at his place; Emily was spending the afternoon at a friend's house.

"Normally, I don't," he replied, laughing nervously, as he showed me in. "I'm not quite sure how it happened. She's very… interesting."

"_Interesting_?" I burst into laughter.

He grimaced. "Didn't anyone tell you it was impolite to make fun of people older than you?"

"Who asked whom out?" I asked, promptly ignoring his query.

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"You're avoiding my question."

"I am not. I'm trying to understand the reason behind…" His voice trailed off when I gave him a look. "She asked me," he confessed. "She is as persistent as she is _interesting_," he stressed the word to make me laugh. "I felt bad about constantly turning her down."

There was reluctance in his every word, every movement. He looked as if he was still undecided whether he should go out with her or not, even though he was supposed to meet up with her in less than two hours. I thought he needed some encouragement. "I think it's great you're trying," I smiled at him. "You shouldn't look so terrified. It's just a date."

"It's not so much the date that frightens me; it's my daughter. Actually I'm quite terrified for _you_, having to answer who knows which questions."

And then I figured it out. "Is that why you called me instead of your regular babysitter?"

"Pretty much," he admitted sheepishly. "Emily seems to feel more comfortable with you. And you seem to be more successful answering her questions than anyone else does." He grinned at me. "Are you sure you don't have any siblings?"

"Not that I know of," I laughed, then scrutinized his appearance, as unkempt as ever, but somehow more thought-of. He had on dark corduroy trousers, and a blue dress shirt that actually flattered him, but was wrinkled, of course. I gave him a look. "You're not wearing _that_, aren't you?"

"What's wrong with it?" He looked down at himself, then at me, as if he couldn't understand my question. His complete obliviousness was laughable, almost endearing. For one moment, I knew exactly how Alice must have felt all this time, having to handle hopeless people with little or no sense of fashion at all.

"Take it off."

I hadn't entirely grasped the hidden meaning my demand carried until I noticed the color drain from his face. "W-what?" he stammered.

It was too late to take the words back now, so I tried to let myself out of it with some dignity. "Take it off. It has to be ironed."

He stared at me for a second longer, not comprehending, until it sank in. He tried to hold back a sigh of relief, but I guessed it was there, by the way his body sort of went limp again.

Already mortified with myself for my unintentionally suggestive demand, I tried to laugh it off, and so I threw him a playful sneer. "You do have an iron, don't you?"

"I do," he grumbled. He barely glanced at me as he slowly began to unbutton his shirt. "I just rarely use it."

"So I noticed," I murmured, still a little flustered. I struggled not to let it show, though. I figured he would be twice as embarrassed. Damn, I couldn't believe I'd just done it. I risked a glance at him, and reached out my arm when he released the last button, avoiding eye contact. "Gimmi."

He smirked and shrugged out of the shirt. I thought I gasped, but I wasn't sure. I hoped I wasn't, because it couldn't possibly get more humiliating than this. For a second, I stood there motionless. My arm froze, forgetting what it meant to be doing. My breathing sounded embarrassingly loud in the suddenly silent room. He wasn't overly muscular or hairy or tanned. Just… manly. His chest was broad, his arms firm. His stomach was flat. I found myself idly wondering if he'd been working out.

In the middle of that somewhat lustful musing, I realized he was staring back at me, his expression half amused, half inquiring. I looked away instantly, mumbling an apology. I could feel my cheeks flare.

"I'll go and find the iron," he said quietly.

I dared to look up until I was sure he was out of the room. Then, slowly, I exhaled. Well done, Bella, I scorned myself. I paced across the room for a while, unable to get over my own stupidity. Then he was back, and handed me the iron. He placed a small ironing board on the dining table as I plugged in the iron. I tried to focus on the mission in hand, although I could sense his eyes on my back, the tension that was suddenly thick in the air between us. I was relieved to be left alone.

xoxox

Emily was quiet that evening, despite Nathan's intimidating forecast about her probing questions. I found myself asking most of the questions, on which she replied with short answers. I suggested we'd make pancakes again to lift her spirit, but it hardly helped anything. She just sat there and watched me with distant eyes. The inherent gleam in them seemed dimmer than usual. I thought I knew what it was all about, and I wanted to talk to her, but she seemed unwilling to.

"When is Daddy coming back?" she asked me later when I put her to bed. I was a bit startled to hear her voice after she'd been silent for nearly the entire evening.

"I'm not sure."

There was a long pause before she spoke again. "He has a date, you know."

It wasn't a question. There was a hint of resentment, accusation maybe, in her voice. "I know."

I thought of myself in her age, and tried to put myself in her position. I wondered how I would react under similar circumstances, if Charlie would have done the same.

But I wasn't her age. And that made all the difference in the world. "He still loves your mom, Emily. It doesn't mean he's trying to replace her or anything. And he still loves you."

"But what if Mommy comes back?"

_What if she doesn't?_

But I didn't dare to utter the question aloud. Instead I tucked the covers more tightly around her. "It's just one date, sweetie. You shouldn't let it bother you. Now close your eyes and try to sleep, okay? I'll tell Daddy to come and kiss you goodnight when he's back."

"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" she pleaded.

"If you want."

"Will you read me a story?" she asked, although her voice suggested she was close to falling asleep.

"Sure."

"The one Edward got you?"

She saw the book at my place a few weeks ago, and whenever we met ever since she asked we'd read it together. I had a feeling she'd want to read it today so I brought it with me. Now I wished I remembered it sooner, because it might have helped earlier in the evening. "It's in my bag," I said, getting up. "I'll go get it."

But the time I was back in the room, she was fast asleep. I leaned over to kiss her goodnight. She stirred and snuggled deeper into the covers. I stayed on her bedside a moment longer before I left her room and went downstairs.

I leafed through Edward's book absentmindedly, automatically reaching for his dedication at the beginning. I knew his words by heart by now, so I just stared at them, thinking of our most recent reconciliation and the conversations that followed. Things were back to perfect again, or very nearly so. So what was this feeling I couldn't shake off, as if I hadn't seen the end of it yet? Our fight suddenly felt like a turning point, but towards what I wasn't quite sure yet. A chill went through me, despite the constant heat sipping through the radiator. I wrapped my arms around myself to get warm, but it didn't help. I kept shaking. I sat there, suddenly terrified, and tried to tell myself it was all in my head.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: hey everyone, I thought I'd pop in to thank you again for your awesome reviews. I'm glad you're getting so engrossed in the story. So keep those comments coming, and read on to see what other torments and tribulations await Eddie and Bellie in today's installment =) **

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Chapter Eighteen – Edward

I wasn't sure when exactly it started again, or why. Bella and I spoke quite a lot since we made up – every day, sometimes more. She started a new production and finished it, and then began an intense rehearsal period in preparation for the holiday season. There was a lot of stress on her end, a lot of comfort on mine. We spoke about Emmett's baby a lot. Her queries on that front were never-ending, or so it felt; and I tried to answer her questions the best I could, as if words could substitute for eyesight. We spoke about Christmas, even though it was about a month away – our first Christmas apart in years.

It wasn't a particular thing she had said or done that ticked me off. And it wasn't even envy I was feeling. I was having hard time trying to define it to myself. She had said that there was nothing going on between her and that guy, and I believed her. She'd rarely spoken about him after that time, as if she feared it would upset me, and I didn't ask. I decided I was better off not knowing.

It wasn't until much later when other questions began to bother me, small things that made little sense. She said his daughter was dancing in her studio, which explained how they met – sort of. But why was he in her apartment? Were they close enough for her to babysit the kid every once in a while, like I knew she had? Anya worked with kids all the time, and she had never babysat any of them. And how did his wife, this kid's mother, fit into this? Was she okay with her husband spending so much time with another woman, and a beautiful one at that?

Those queries and others much like them were whirling uncontrollably in my head, but I didn't dare posing them to her. I was pretty shaken by that argument we had on the phone, and I wanted to avoid getting there again. I tried to act normally while speaking to her, still upset with myself for yelling at her that other time. She had never said anything about it, so I hoped it meant there wasn't anything different about my voice. Inside, I was burning, a slow, gradual burn, which was going to either erupt at some point or consume me entirely.

Things between Emmett and me came back to normal, too. He was clearly pleased I'd come back to my senses. There was no trace for the furious person from a few weeks ago. I didn't dare to confront him with my suspicions, speculations, whatever the hell those were. I knew how he would respond, and I wanted to avoid angry Emmett as much as I could. But keeping it to myself didn't seem very wise either. It felt as if the secret – not so much as the suspicion – would end up ruining me.

"I was talking to Bella the other day," he told me one evening I was spending at their place. Rosalie was at the nursery, changing the baby, and we were sitting by the dining table peeling green beans. Thanksgiving was only a few days away, and since everyone was coming over for dinner, I was helping them with the preparations. "She sounded really sorry she couldn't be with us on Thanksgiving."

"I know." She told me as much a few days ago.

"It could have been fun if she could take a few days off to come over."

"Yeah," I said absentmindedly, not really listening to him. I knew she couldn't possibly do that, not in the middle of rehearsals. She didn't even ask anyone, as she knew what the management's answer was going to be. I promised her she wouldn't be missing on anything here, but it didn't soothe her as I hoped it would.

I glanced at Emmett, who was busy peeling and didn't mind me much. Clearly Emmett and Bella kept in touch even after that miserable incident from a few weeks ago. He might have the answers I so desperately needed. I might get something out of him because Alice or Anya would never tell me anything. He was my brother. If I couldn't put my trust in him, I couldn't put my trust in anyone. "Emmett?" I started hesitantly, unsure how to continue.

"Hmm," he mumbled without looking at me.

"Bella tells you about her friends sometimes, doesn't she?"

"Her friends from the company? Sure."

"No, umm, her other friends."

His hand froze, the knife in it suspended mid-air. I tensed at the motion. Surely he had no reason to respond that way… unless he had anything to hide…?

Slowly, he raised his face to mine, and gave me a probing look. "Why?"

Obviously he thought he was on to something. I shrugged. "Just… wondering."

I mentally winced at the quiver in my voice. If I heard it, I knew he could, too. And I was right. He kept watching me, his forehead creasing into a troubled grimace now. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"It's not what you think."

Apparently, it was the worst thing I could possibly tell him. Obviously he saw right through it. He flashed an angelic smile at me. "What _am_ I thinking, little bro?" A moment later, the smile was all gone. I recognized _that_ expression; it was the one I hoped never to encounter again. "What _should_ I think?"

I felt uncomfortable beneath his scolding glare. I tried to lower my gaze, but he wouldn't let me.

"I'm not taking part in this third grade game. Actually I take it back. My third graders at work are more mature than you are. If you have something to ask her, ask _her_, not me. It's not my fault you're too scared to handle the truth."

His statement left me at loss. There was something annoyingly puzzling about it. I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it. And then, I couldn't help convincing myself that there was.

xoxox

"So what are you up to on Thanksgiving?" I asked Bella that night when she called.

She let out this short, raspy laugh. It was about two A.M. in London, and she said she couldn't sleep. Her voice was low, seductive, like velvet. I shivered despite myself. "It's just a regular day over here, so not much. If I survive rehearsals, I might cook dinner for some friends."

"Oh?" I tensed. Again with her 'friends'.

"Ivan, Jenna, a few others you don't know. I promised them an authentic Thanksgiving feast."

Just her colleagues. Relief was overwhelming. "Oh, I thought you meant…"

"What?"

"Nothing, forget it."

There was a pause, and then she asked hesitantly, "Is everything okay?"

"Fine."

I didn't know if my curt reply convinced her, but she didn't dwell on it. "You guys have dinner at Emmett's place, right?"

"Yes, my parents are coming on Monday, and Rosalie's parents. It's going to be crowded."

"I wish I could be there." She sounded sorry.

"I wish you could be here, too." At least that way I could be sure she was with me, and not with… "So did you do anything interesting this week?" God, I was so bad in being inconspicuous.

"I see nothing except that damn rehearsal room. It's insane, really. I can barely walk back to my flat at the end of each day."

I couldn't help cock an eyebrow at her use of _flat_ instead of _apartment_. She even _sounded_ British now. Ugh. "No plans for tomorrow then?" I tried another front.

"Sleep. Lots of it. Absolutely nothing else."

It was impossible. I would never have my answers.

"Do _you_ have any plans?" she asked me.

"Homework, mostly. I might catch a movie at some point."

"Oh, sounds like fun, which movie? With whom?"

For one crazy moment, Claire's name was about to slip from my lips, which sort of threw me off a little. I caught myself mil-second before I uttered it. "Anya. This new French comedy is out this week. You know, with the actress you hate."

"Oh, yeah." That laughter again. It was impossible to remain immune to it. "Have fun. Tell her I said hi. I haven't spoken to her in a while." The end of her sentence was nearly inaudible as she yawned.

"Go to sleep, Bella," I said, softening despite myself.

"Going," she mumbled, already sort of drifting. "'Night."

"Good night, sweetheart."

But the line was already disconnected.

I sat there baffled, trying to make sense of the little she said. It didn't lead me anywhere. I didn't know more now.

I thought about my nearly slip, wondered what would have happened if I _had_ said Claire's name instead of Anya's. I hadn't actually planned on seeing a movie this weekend or the next one. Anya and I spoke about it ages ago, but nothing was set in stone. I wasn't sure why I had mentioned it to Bella. Maybe I wanted her to think I had a life here, too. Maybe I was hoping for her to get jealous as well. Maybe I wanted to get even, as childish as it sounded.

Of course, that didn't quite work out the way that I planned.

I reached for my cell phone, and texted Anya, to ask if she was available this weekend.

xoxox

Emmett and Rosalie's place had never been more crowded. It felt like a dress rehearsal for Christmas. My parents came over for the holiday, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Hale, Rosalie's parents. Alice was with us since her parents were home in Seattle and Jasper was home in Texas. She told me jokingly that since she was alone and I was alone, we could be alone together. She didn't notice it failed to make me laugh.

Since the dining table was too small to contain all of us, we used it as buffet. There was tons of food, curtsey of all of us. Everyone donated a dish to make it easier on Rosalie, who had Jade to look after, which had taken most of her time. Somehow it beat last year's dinner. Mr. Hale carved the turkey and we all drank a toast to baby Jade, who seemed in awe at all the people around her.

Not sitting next to a table was nice, especially in Rosalie's household, where it was a sort of taboo. Emmett piled heaps of food on his plate and left it on the kitchen counter next to a small sign with his name on it, one he had apparently prepared in advance. I didn't even have a chance to roll my eyes or ask what the hell he was doing when he reached for his video camera. I groaned; from across the room I saw my father flinch. He loathed Emmett's camera as passionately as I had, although he did better job hiding it.

"Thanksgiving with the Cullens and the Hales, plus the new addition," Emmett announced, and zoomed in on Jade, who was sitting on Rosalie's mother's lap. He started making strange noises to make her laugh. She waved her hands this way and that, nearly knocking his camera over. I sniggered, and looked away. It was too noisy around the baby, so I took my plate and wandered across the room.

I ended up by Rose's grand piano, and had a few peaceful moments before Mr. Hale came to sit next to me, apparently trying to escape the noise as well. We talked for a while; he told me about the trip to Germany he and his wife had recently gone back from, and about a concert with a famous pianist he thought I knew. Then Mrs. Hale asked him something, and he excused himself and walked away.

No one minded me when I crossed the room and got myself a piece of my mother's cherry pie. She only made them for Thanksgiving, and I had literally waited the entire year for it. When I walked in, she told me in a conspirator's whisper that she had baked an extra pie I could take home with me later. Nonetheless, I took a big slice, making sure Emmett wouldn't notice. I came back to my seat by the piano and ate my pie slowly, reveling on every bite. It wasn't long after that when my peace was disrupted, and my mother joined me.

"Rosalie tells me you were in charge for the pumpkin pie," she said, beaming at me. "It's good."

It was half true, really. Claire helped me make it. I could never have done it on my own. In fact, we had so much fun making it together that she promised she'd give me some more lessons. "Thanks," I mumbled, feeling kind of bad for taking all the credit.

My mother didn't say anything for a long time, and we just sat there, eating our respective pies in silence. I was grateful to her she didn't try to make any unnecessary small talk. And then when she next spoke, I realized that the silence was hesitation. She raised her eyes to mine, and I didn't like what I found there.

"Is everything okay, Edward?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just… you've never said how your few days in London went. I know we got busy with the baby and everything, but I couldn't help noticing…" I hoped she didn't notice me cringe at her sharp observation. She sighed. "I don't know. Call it maternal instincts. I just feared something was wrong… between you and Bella."

"Everything is fine," I said, struggling to meet her eye.

"Charlie says she sounds happy. He spoke to her right before we dropped Sophie at his place."

"She is, I think."

"I wish we could fly over to see her perform, but I'm afraid your father will never leave work for so long."

"She'll be back soon." But even I noticed the laconic tone of my voice. Her forehead creased as if she noticed, as if she realized my voice contained the confirmation for her previous – and rather accurate – observation. But before I managed to think of a good enough excuse to leave, the lenses of Emmett's camera was suddenly in my face.

"Say something for the camera, Pumpkinward."

"Get lost," I muttered.

"Thank you for teaching my baby girl such fine vocabulary," he said, unaffected by my insult. He switched the camera from me to my mother. "Hi, Mom."

"Hi, honey." Her smile was radiant, mischievous.

"What are you talking about? Oh, no, let me guess. Her name starts with a B…"

"Have you ever filmed with mashed potatoes on your lenses, Emmett?" I scowled, then looked over his shoulder. "Look, Alice is trying to kidnap the baby again."

"Alice, put the baby down!" he bellowed across the room, where our tiny cousin was pirouetting with Jade in her arms. The baby yelped and giggled, and she seemed to be enjoying every second of it.

"She loves it!" Alice protested.

Emmett still had his camera on when he began to chase her. "Keep it up and she'll throw up," he warned. "All over your Manolo Blahnik! And I'll have to clean it up!"

"That's why you're her daddy. That's what dads do. It's up to the aunts to be the fun people!" she declared. Jade flashed him a toothless grin as if to prove Alice's point.

"Turn the camera off before this film turns into The Blair Witch Project," Rosalie laughed. We started an improvised football game with Jade as a human ball. Alice handed her to my father, who handed her to Rosalie's mother, who handed her to my mother, who handed her to me. I only managed a whiff of her sweet babyish scent before she was snatched from me by Rosalie. As soon as Rosalie had her, Jade's tiny face creased into an unsatisfied frown, and she started wailing.

"Aww, she wants Uncle Edward!" Emmett roared, and aimed the camera back to me when I wrapped my niece in a tight, careful hug. I started rocking her awkwardly against my chest to quiet her down.

"Get that, Bella. Something to think about in the future?"

I glared at him, and then decided to change tactics. "Oh, look, Jade! What does Daddy have in his hand? What is it? Wouldn't it be fun to grab it and smash it on the floor?" She waved her chubby fists at me, giggling, almost as if she understood.

The phone rang. I didn't even realize it had until I saw Rosalie picking it up on the farthest end of the room. She spoke for a few minutes, then drew everyone's attention by waving the receiver over her head. "Does anyone want to speak to an English dancer called Bella?"

A new mayhem erupted as everyone launched forward to try and snatch the phone first. It resembled the game we had just played with Jade a while ago. Each managed to yell about three words before the phone was snatched away by the next person.

"Hey, girlfriend, I miss you lots!"

"Wish you were here, babe!"

"Are you warm enough, honey?"

"You sound like you have a cold."

I watched each of them as they listened to whatever she replied to their comments. They looked excited to speak to her, especially my parents who weren't in close touch with her as the rest of us seemed to be. It amazed me how close to her they'd all become. It was as if she was already a part of the family, an essential part. They all missed her too, by the looks of it.

"Here's Edward," Rosalie was suddenly in front of me, shoving the phone into my hands. I didn't have the choice but take it and hand the baby over to her. Although the excited babble didn't cease, I felt their eyes on me, reading my every move. I knew Emmett noticed I didn't launch forward as soon as Rosalie announced it was Bella on the phone. He gave me this look now, challenging me to dare and reject her call.

I promptly turned my back on everyone and ventured down the hallway, cringing at the chorus of "bye, Bella!" that followed me. I walked into the nursery and shut the door. Only then, I raised the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, you."

It was so easy to forget everything, reason and circumstances, and just surrender to the sweetness of her voice. "What are you doing up?" I asked dumbly. From some reason, it was the only thing I could come up with, the only thing that had occurred to me to ask.

"I knew you guys were together and I wanted to say hi."

Whether she stayed up on purpose or set her alarm, it was a sweet gesture. Nonetheless, I didn't linger on it just now. My mind was set on something else. "How was your dinner?"

"What dinner?"

"The one you were supposed to cook for your friends." I tried to keep the mockery out of the last word, but it turned out I didn't have to. She was so tired she didn't notice.

"Oh. We postponed it. Too tired," she said through a yawn.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't think of a single thing to say to her. The things I could think of weren't very nice at all, and I didn't want to start anything now.

"Where are you?"

"At the nursery."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"What are you wearing?"

There was drowsy playfulness in her tone, one that on normal terms would drive me absolutely crazy. I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped me. "You're delirious, Bella. Go to bed."

"I actually feel like playing, don't you?"

She was irresistible, spun this charm around me, one I couldn't release myself from. It was twice as bad on the phone. Imagination could be such a curse.

"Even if I do, it's not the wisest idea to do this here."

"Because you're at the nursery?"

"Because Emmett might be listening by the door, waiting for this exact opportunity to make fun of both of us."

"Oh, I see," she said slowly. Her voice was nothing but a seductive whisper. "In that case… call me when you get home."

I kept standing there in the darkness long after she hung up. For the first time in years, I was at loss. I had always been so sure about my feelings for her, even before _us_ came to be. Right now, I had no idea what I wanted. I loved her, but I hated what she was doing to me. I missed her desperately, but I wanted her to stay in London. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and kiss her until we were both breathless, but at the same time I wanted to shove her as aggressively as I dared for deceiving me. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, but I regretted I'd proposed. It felt as if I was stuck in this dangerous trap, one I had absolutely no idea how to get myself out of.

xoxox

I decided to go with the version I'd given Bella, and booked tickets to the midnight screening the weekend after Thanksgiving. Luckily, Anya didn't ask any questions about my urgency to go and see this movie as soon as it was out – I guessed she assumed I was just lonely with Bella gone. But I should have known something would go wrong. In the morning she called me and apologized she couldn't come, being too sick. She'd been unwell for a few days, but she had a fever when she woke up, and was in no condition to go out.

Asking Claire to join me was instinctive. I knew she spent Thanksgiving home alone, and she seemed a little down when she didn't pass her last audition, so I thought a night out would cheer her up. Besides, Bella spent the weekend hanging out with her friends in that Thanksgiving dinner she was cooking for them; there was no reason why I wouldn't hang out with mine.

It was fun, in a strange sort of way. I wasn't expecting to feel so comfortable with Claire, but that alone was rather stupid considering we were spending a lot of time together at my place or hers. We shared popcorn and groaned at the cliché parts of the film. She seemed to take a liking of the main actor, and I teased her all evening about how being over thirty, she should really know better. All in all, it was a nice evening, better than going alone, for sure.

"I don't usually do French films," she confessed on the way home. We decided to walk, as it wasn't raining. It was bitter cold though; I stuck my chin into my thick scarf, but it hardly helped. "I think I've been missing out."

"You have. There are a few good ones."

"I don't like _her_, though," she said, and by the way her nose sort of wrinkled I knew she meant the leading actress, the one Bella hated too. I heard her low groan whenever she came onscreen. "That nasal speech is actually annoying. You'd expect her to earn enough money to solve this problem."

I burst into laughter. I couldn't help it. The coincidence was amazing. "That's exactly what Bella says whenever we watch a movie this girl is in."

"I guess women notice these things," Claire shrugged. "_You_ probably think she's awfully pretty," she added, rolling her eyes.

"Well, maybe as a man I have the ability to go beyond superficial issues like nasal speech."

She snorted. "Because good looks is clearly less superficial."

"Clearly." My eyes met hers, and we both chuckled. The sound died out slowly as I found myself transfixed by that glimmer in her eyes. I had never noticed it before. She looked away with what seemed like embarrassment. I couldn't bring myself to apologize. We walked in silence for a few moments.

"So, is it getting better between you two?"

I cringed. She knew Bella and I made up, but not much beyond it. "We're fine," I found myself say.

She eyed me suspiciously as if she saw right through my lie.

"Really. Can't be better." This one was too much. I had to look away.

We climbed upstairs in silence and stopped by her door. She unlocked it and turned to look at me again. The seriousness in her eyes caught me a little off-guard. "Thank you. For asking me to come with you tonight." Then a small smile broke on her lips. "It's twisted, but in a way I'm sort of happy your friend was too sick to come with you. Just thinking about spending another evening cooped in here…" She let her voice trail as she flashed another smile at me. "Thank you for saving this damsel in distress."

"My pleasure."

The light in the hallway was dim yellow, making her hair as bright as a flame beneath her dark hat. I was standing close enough to detect a few freckles on her nose. This glimmer in her eyes was still distracting, as much as it was when we made our way here. I leaned forward without even realizing it, without stopping to dwell on reason. It felt as if the need had been there, hanging between us all evening, from the moment the lights at the cinema dimmed. My mind was blank, focused on nothing but this need, this whimsical yearning.

Her lips parted ever so slightly with a tiny gasp. A shadow crossed her eyes, something close enough to a warning, but I didn't adhere to it. But before my lips so much as brushed against hers, she flinched back. "Is that your definition of _we're fine_?" Her tone was soft as she slowly raised her eyes to mine.

"Does it matter?" I heard myself ask as I leaned closer again. Instincts; nothing else. This time she pushed me back, gently, but with that same piercing stare.

"Not because you're lonely," she said, and there was something so earnest in her voice that made my heart twitch with guilt. "And definitely not because you want to get back at her." She placed her hand on my cheek, and I tried to shut myself out against the familiarity of the motion. "You're tired. You're not thinking straight."

I felt more than guilty. I was mortified with myself. Because in this stupid and miserable attempt for vengeance, I would have ruined our friendship as well. "You're right," I mumbled, barely able to look at her. Realization was too much to take.

"Hey…" Her finger fluttered to my chin. Her touch was unbelievably gentle as she forced my gaze back on hers. "It's fine. Nothing happened. Get some sleep, and you'll forget all about it tomorrow."

I seriously doubted that I would. I couldn't even begin to grasp what it meant in terms of my relationship with Bella. I wasn't there yet. I just couldn't believe I'd done it, or nearly done it. I turned my back on her, meaning to leave. I felt numb. I just wanted to bury myself someplace and die of self-humiliation.

"Hey, Edward." The tiniest smile curled on her lips when I turned to face her again. "Under any other circumstances, I might have kissed you back."

There was this sadness in her eyes, and I knew she must be thinking about that English guy she still cared for, which made me feel even worse. I nodded absentmindedly. "I'll call you tomorrow," I murmured and turned to go. But somehow I knew it would take much longer than tomorrow before I could talk to her – before I could _look_ at her – again. It would be a while before I could even face myself.

In the safety of my apartment, I went straight to my room and got ready for bed, still in that numb state of mind. I reached for the drawer on my bedside and took out the small box with the ring, Bella's ring, the one I had vowed to keep. I used to look at it from time to time since she'd been gone. It was comforting to be reminded of her promise to come back. I hadn't looked at it since I was back from London. Looking at it now was painful. It felt as if so far the two of us had been living in a bubble, in this place where temptation didn't exist. And in this sense, Bella was right. Her going away _was_ good for us. If anything, it opened my eyes. Would I have spent the night with Claire if I'd been given the chance? Probably. But I would have felt incredibly guilty afterwards. I didn't want her that way. If I spent the night with her, it would have been to diminish the loss, and nothing else.

I thought back of Bella's request I'd keep the ring. It was as if she knew, as if she'd expected it. With the ring here there was nothing concrete to tie her to me, and so technically she could –

I shook my head and shoved the ring back into the drawer. I didn't really believe that. After nearly five years it wouldn't be the absence of a ring to make her unfaithful. As far as I knew, none of my speculations had any support. On the other hand, me… I was this close to break the trust she had in me, to ruin everything we'd had in five years just so I could mend my wounded ego.

I crawled into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and let remorse consume me.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen – Bella**

This was simply not my month.

It wasn't just because it was Thanksgiving and I was missing out on so much at home. It wasn't because Edward was acting a little funny again, and I couldn't make sense of it. It was anxiety of a different sort, one I thought I'd been used to by now, but one which surprised me with its intensity every single time.

I used to think the rehearsal period during my final weeks in Juilliard had been the busiest time in my life, but it paled comparing to what I'd been going through since rehearsals began. I had never felt so drained, so exhausted; I thought I would never recover. And then, when I thought it couldn't possibly get worse, at the end of November we got the final schedule for our two upcoming productions. I felt my body goes limp, a little more each second, when I listened to our manager's explanations. I could almost feel my confidence leaking out of me, one drop at the time. _Giselle_ and _Cinderella_ were a walk in the park comparing to what was expecting us in this approaching holiday season.

Whereas most of my colleagues were used to do two shows a day, almost every day of the week, the news came as quite a blow for me. My reaction didn't make much sense, I guess. I should have probably expected it when I signed up for this. I wasn't sure _what_ I'd expected, really. Maybe nothing; maybe I was just emotionally vulnerable because I was more stressed than I'd normally been. But looking at our schedule, despair washed over me. It was sudden, instant; it made my head spin and my heart beat faster. Luckily, we were just dismissed for an hour break. I really didn't want my colleagues to witness my falling apart.

By the time I reached the entrance of the park, I was half blind with tears. I collapsed on the nearest bench, pulled my legs up so I could lay my chin on my knees, and released a shaky breath. I wrapped my arms around my legs as if the position would prevent me from breaking into pieces. I just sat there with my eyes closed, and let the wind blow on my face as I tried to steady my breathing. _You're okay_, I told myself over and over again, but I couldn't even fool myself.

I'd never slipped into hysteria before. Exhaustion had always managed to numb the stress, and there was also Edward who made sure I wouldn't get there. But he wasn't here now, and despite the exhaustion, everything was so incredibly lucid. I'd been doing well so far, better than I'd expected to, and it had taken as little as that to make me fall apart. There was no way in the world I could do this. I'd been under some dumb illusion that I could, blinded by the exhilaration of a new beginning, but I knew better now. I should never have come here. I should have stayed home and pursue a teaching career, like some of my sensible friends had done.

"Bella?"

I looked up, startled. Ivan's face creased with concern, a response to my tears, I assumed. He sighed and sat beside me. Wordlessly, he wrapped one arm around me and pulled me closer. I lay my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes again, a final (and rather feeble) attempt to hold back tears.

He noticed them anyway. I thought it was because I was shaking so badly. "Oh, honey…" he cooed and turned so he could wrap both arms around me. That did it. I couldn't hold back anymore. My sobs were broken, as I was still trying to hold on to my crumpling poise, but to no avail. He just held me, gently rocking me against him, until I slowly calmed down.

"I'm… sorry…" I breathed when I found my way with words again. I fumbled in my bag blindly. How was it that you could never find a tissue just when you most needed one?

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he said, handing me a tissue. "I've expected it much sooner, really. You should have seen _me_ during my first holiday season. I was a wreck – ask Stanislaw, he'll remember it well – I had to be hospitalized, and I didn't even have the excuse of being so far away from home." He searched in his bag a little before he took out something and handed it to me. It was a chocolate bar, my favorite brand since I'd got here. I looked up at him questionably, still too shaken to form a question. He just nodded. "Trust me. You'll feel better."

I cocked an eyebrow, unconvinced, but removed the wrapper anyway. "Sugar rush? Really?"

"Better than tranquilizers, and works like a charm," he promised when I bit into it. I let it melt on my tongue, hoping the sweetness would comfort me. "Now listen to me. Don't let the schedule scare you. From my experience, the rehearsals are much worse than the actual performances later. By then you'll be so numb you wouldn't notice how fast it goes. So instead of sitting here and phrasing your letter of resignation, take the advice of someone who's been doing this for four years. You'll be fine. We'll sit here at the end of January and laugh about it. I promise."

"If I survive the next month," I grumbled, mouth full with chocolate.

"I won't let you fall apart," he said seriously, and the simplicity in the statement brought new tears to my eyes. "You're a good dancer. You wouldn't be here if you weren't. Philippa would never have chosen you unless she thought you were capable of it. In the past four years, I've seen enough people she requited; they didn't last two months with us. You shouldn't be the one crying."

I dabbed my eyes with the tissue, but it was damp and useless. He handed me another one, and I blew my nose with it. I felt bad listening to him. I wasn't looking for compliments. I didn't need an ego boost. I was just so desperate, and incredibly homesick. I needed the one person who knew how to keep my steady, and he wasn't here with me.

And as if Ivan guessed it, he reached out to tuck my hair behind my ear. "I know it must be difficult, being alone here with those holidays coming. But you're not really alone, you know. I meant to tell you earlier, but I forgot. My Gran insisted you'd join us for lunch on Christmas day. I told her all about you, and she can't wait to meet you. And we can go and hunt for Christmas gifts on Sunday if you want. We'll get something for your hot boyfriend."

I laughed through tears. "As long as it's not an edible thong."

"Oooh, you know what I like," he squealed, waggling his eyebrows. We shared a smile, but his eyes were serious when they met mine again. "Okay?"

I nodded uncertainly. I wasn't completely okay yet, but with his help, I was slowly getting there.

xoxox

Ivan took me to dinner after the session ended that evening, and then walked me home, as if he didn't think I was capable of getting there by myself. I couldn't blame him. Outwardly, I was better. I forced myself to put up a good act for my colleagues, for my managers, to avoid questions at least, mainly because it was too embarrassing to admit the reason of my sudden distress. Inside I was still weeping.

It wasn't that I didn't believe Ivan that everything would be okay. I did. But letting it all out reminded me how lonely I'd truly been here, with everyone I knew and loved miles away from me. It didn't matter that it was my choice, that I should be grateful to have a steady job so soon after college, that there were people here who cared for me just as much as people at home, if not more so sometimes. For that one moment of misery, I had more to lose than to gain by being stuck here on my own.

That night I called home, but Edward wasn't in. I was really looking forward to speaking to him tonight. After what happened earlier, I needed his reassurance more than anything. If he wasn't here to hold me, I needed him to tell me it was okay, that he was still waiting, that he would wait until my contract here was over. Words were better than nothing. But he wasn't home.

I was determined not to sink back into this morning's desolation. My own breakdown scared the hell out of me, and I knew that if I didn't watch myself, it was a short way back there, because like an anesthesia, Ivan's consolations only managed to tone down the anxiety, not to take it away entirely. I'd call someone else, I decided, and Anya was the first person who popped into my head, probably because her postcard was still on the coffee table. I hadn't spoken to her in a while, and I was really glad to find this little piece of post from her when I got back. She was in, thankfully, and as we chatted, I felt slightly more comforted. I really missed those random, pointless conversations with her. From describing a blue dress she got from her grandmother in Russia for Christmas, she moved on to tell me about a date she had just the other night.

"Well, at least we have the same taste in movies. We went to see that new French comedy – you know, with the actress you hate."

The words were familiar – _too_ familiar. I tensed, thinking of a different conversation, with a different person, barely a week earlier. "I thought you saw that one with Edward."

"With Edward?"

"He told me last week you guys were going to watch a movie together." I wasn't sure why I kept insisting. Her voice pretty much settled it that she had no idea what I was talking about. But he _had_ said it, hadn't he…? Suddenly I wasn't sure.

"Were we? I don't – _Oh_! No, no, you're right. We meant to, but I ended up being too sick to go. We actually had tickets and everything – "

Was her voice quivering with panic, or was I beginning to hear things as well?

"I think he gave the extra ticket to your neighbor or something."

I clutched the phone so tight I nearly pulled a muscle in my palm. I winced in pain, slowly let go, and then questioned her statement. "A neighbor?"

"Yeah. That's what he said, anyway. I don't know her."

I felt my mouth go dry. We'd never been close to any of our neighbors, nor could I think of a particular one Edward would take sudden interest in. And Anya specifically said it was a woman. Unless it was a new neighbor I knew nothing about, I couldn't see how it was likely or possible he would ask one of our neighbors out, even as a friendly gesture. It could have meant nothing, just him being nice, but something within me told me that wasn't quite the case.

"Hey, at least he didn't throw away the extra ticket."

"Yeah," I murmured, my mind completely elsewhere, trying to place the pieces together. He _had_ been acting funny recently. I sensed it, but I wasn't completely sure it wasn't all in my head. Those strange statements and weird questions I couldn't quite make sense of, the ones I brushed off because I thought I was too tired. Was this it, then? The crisis I'd felt looming closer, but couldn't explain it before?

"I thought he wouldn't miss a chance to rant at how I stood him up," Anya joked, putting an end to my frenzied thoughts.

I forced myself to laugh although something within me broke – I wasn't completely sure why. It could be nothing. It probably _was_ nothing. "Oh, he must have said something. I'm so tired when I get home, I hardly remember my own name," I managed, hoping the tremor in my voice wasn't as strong as it sounded to me.

"I know how that feels," she giggled, indifferent to my distress, as she plunged into another tale.

I wasn't entirely sure how that conversation ended, or how I ended up on the floor, but there I was, with tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. It was stupid, but I was tired, and it was making me overly emotional – ridiculously so. My second breakdown in less than twenty four hours. This was definitely not normal. This one was worse, not because Ivan wasn't here to hold me through it, but because this wasn't about work. If my personal life was the only constant thing I had left, it was falling apart now as well.

It really didn't bother me if we _had_ a new neighbor Edward was spending time with. I didn't care if it was a woman. He was spending a lot of time with Anya as well, and I had always thought it was great they'd become so close. Besides, I owed him the same amount of trust I'd expected him to have in me. That really wasn't the issue. What I couldn't figure out was why he kept it away from me.

Well, actually, I could. And that only made me cry harder.

The only reason he'd want to keep it away from me was if he actually had something to hide.

xoxox

I hadn't confronted Edward about my new suspicions. It might as well be nothing, all in my head, a result of my stress and nothing more. Besides, I wanted to give myself a chance to be sure before I attacked him for no reason. Since we'd spoken a lot recently, I told myself that if something was up, it was bound to come up at some point, in a way that would be a little more obvious than any other change I'd detected in him so far, but there was none. He sounded weary more often now, but he said school was getting busier and I believed him. It felt a little childish not to.

I told myself it didn't matter. Well, it did and it didn't. Of course I wanted to know if there was something he was keeping from me, but I was so busy I couldn't really afford vain distractions. I debated whether or not I should ask Emmett, but eventually decided against it. He'd just tell me we needed to grow up, right after he'd spend ten minutes straight laughing at me.

But there was something else I needed to tell Emmett – my idea for a Christmas gift for everyone at home. I came up with it a few days earlier, when Ivan suggested we'd go shopping together. I made a list of everyone I needed to get something for, and pretty soon the list became longer than I realized. Since the Cullens compiled the majority of this list, I decided I'd get everyone small things – things I could afford – and put it all in a box they could open together on Christmas Eve. Carlisle and Esme were traveling to New York again, to save Emmett and Rosalie the trouble of flying across the country with a two months old baby.

"It's like a twisted Secret Santa – sure, I'm game," Emmett laughed after I explained my plan to him. "But are you going to tell me what you got?"

"Of course not. You're just the messenger."

"In that case, add some extra candy in there, I'm working on commission here."

I'd actually thought about that long before he brought it up, but I didn't say anything. I'd let him think it was his own brilliant idea.

"Oh, and please make sure to keep Edward's gift G-rated since there are small children present!"

I laughed humorlessly, my previous gloom resurfacing. "I'll try."

"Has he spoken to you yet?"

"Edward? Was he supposed to?"

"There was something he wanted to ask you, I think – he made the mistake of trying to do it through _me_, but I said I wouldn't play. The kid has to toughen it up a little."

I cringed, because using Emmett as a mediator was exactly what I'd been tempted to do, but now I didn't dare to. But when Edward needed to tell me things, he had. Unless it was something he was hoping to find out without me knowing; or couldn't figure out the best way of breaking it to me. "Do you know what it was?"

"Nope, I told him I didn't want anything to do with this."

"Did he want to tell me something? Ask me something? What?"

But I doubted he even heard my question, because on his end, Jade started crying. "Oh no. Bella, I have to go – Rosalie's asleep and I don't want – talk later – okay?"

The last thing I heard was his soft comforts for his baby daughter before the line disconnected.

I thought about his words long after that. There was something Edward wanted to tell me, but didn't. Something that made Emmett upset with him. Could I possibly be right? Could there actually be something he was hiding about this neighbor of his? After all this time – five years next month – could he possibly mean to tell me it was over?

No. I wouldn't think about it. I _couldn't_; not without facts. I had too much faith in him to believe he could actually do something like that to me. We weren't officially engaged or anything, but I didn't need an engagement ring as a physical token of commitment. I thought it was something that couldn't be conquered by distance. I believed it would hold under any circumstances, no matter how desperate those circumstances were.

I hoped he wasn't going to prove me wrong.

xoxox

The loud shrill of the phone woke me up with a jolt. I was pretty sure I yelped as I started off the sofa, but I wasn't certain. The room swam about me for a second. My mind felt hazy, as if it was padded with cotton candy. I was on the sofa; I vaguely remembered speaking to Edward right before I fell asleep. The phone was on the carpet, as if I'd dropped it once I blacked out.

Suddenly my mind wrapped itself around the fact there was too much light, and the realization made me leap off the sofa with certain horror. Crap. Why hadn't my alarm gone off? I was going to be so late –

My caller was insistent. Or maybe _that_ was the alarm? No, definitely the phone. I picked it, still somewhat dazed and kind of terrified as for who it could be. My manager, furious with me for not showing up for rehearsals on time. Or maybe Ivan, asking where the hell I was. Either way, it was lost. I'd undergone all this hectic period just to get my ass kicked now. I was going to get sacked. I just knew I would.

"Hello?"

"Oh, you're home. I meant to leave you a message."

Just Nathan. I dared to breathe again. "What time is it?" But I got my answer a second later when I caught sight of the digital clock above the TV. A little after twelve. "Oh, great," I moaned and made a run for the bedroom.

"Are you alright, Bella?"

"No. I'm going to get fired, and no ballet company will ever want to hire me again." My hands were shaking with sudden panic when I reached for a new pair of tights.

"What are you talking about? Who wants to fire you?"

"The company will, once I get to rehearsals – I'm so late – if you haven't called – "

My voice trailed off at the sound that came from the other end. From some reason, something I said made him laugh. "Bella, calm down."

"Didn't you hear a word of what I've just said? I _can't_ calm down – "

"Do you know what day it is?"

It irritated me that he sounded so amused. Even more than it irritated me I really _couldn't_ remember what day it was. "What does this have anything to do with it?"

He chuckled. "It has everything to do with it – it's Sunday."

I sat there, dumbfounded, and stared at the window. I scorned myself for my own stupidity. Sunday. Of course.

"Still there, Bella?"

"Yeah," I said, yawning, and lay back.

"I'm sorry I woke you. I seem to be doing that a lot recently," he laughed softly. "How are those rehearsals going?"

"We're moving to the theatre tomorrow, and we open on Thursday." Two shows a day. I shuddered in horror from just thinking about it. "How are you guys? How's Emily? I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to see you – or return your calls – I might be able to get you tickets for one of the – "

"Breathe, Bella," he laughed. "It's fine. We're fine. Things were quite busy for us as well. Emily misses you, but she understands you have a job to do."

"Is she there with you?"

"No, she's spending the day at a friend's house. I'm on my way out myself, but I was just wondering if you had plans for Christmas yet."

"We're doing an early matinee on Christmas Eve. We've got Christmas day off, but I'll be spending the day at my friend's house. If I could will myself to wake up. Why?"

"I was wondering if you'd want to spend Christmas Eve with Emily and me."

"I thought you'd be spending it with your parents."

"Normally we would have, but Emily got a part in the school play. They're performing on Christmas Eve, so we would be spending it at home. I was thinking… I mean if you want, you could come with me. To see her. I know it would make her happy. And then you could have dinner on us."

I could see why he had trouble going on dates. He was too awful in asking people out. Not that this was going to be a date of that sort, of course; but the principal was similar.

"So what do you say? A group of first year pupils is hardly the English National Ballet, and I'm not the best cook in Britain, but it's better than being alone on Christmas Eve."

I didn't even stop to consider. "I'd love that."

"Excellent." He was clearly smiling. "Can I tell Emily then?"

"On one condition."

"I know, no presents. I'll see what I can do."

"Oh, right, two conditions, then," I laughed.

"There was another?" He sounded surprised.

"Yes. That I'll be cooking too."

This amused him. "I didn't mean to imply I was that hopeless a cook."

"I didn't mean to insinuate it," I retorted. "It just feels unfair if it all falls on you, that's all."

"You're my guest, and therefore I should be the one – "

"You're quite the gentleman, Nathan, but it's unnecessary. It's been a while since I cooked for anyone but myself. I'm looking forward to it, in a pathetic sort of way."

"You've got enough on your plate as it is – "

"Stop it. It's fine. I'll be happy to do it."

"Fine, as long as you don't strain yourself," he mock-grumbled, but I could tell he was somewhat relieved by my suggestion. "Oh, and we'll be decorating our tree next weekend, I think, so if you want to come over…"

"Shoot, I still didn't get mine." And suddenly I realized I had no idea where I could get one. I told him as much.

"I'll tell you what. I really have to go now, but how about I stop by later and we could figure out the tree problem?"

"That'll be great," I said. "Thank you for thinking about me," I added a little more seriously.

"Not a problem. It would be a much happier Christmas for all of us that way."

And suddenly, after we hung up, I thought that maybe it would be.

xoxox

The day before we opened _The Nutcracker_, we were dismissed earlier than normally. I stopped at the post office on the way home to drop the package for Emmett. With all those endless rehearsal sessions, I didn't have a chance to send it earlier. Now, about two weeks before Christmas, I had to send it in Express to make sure he'd get it on time.

I received a package notification the day before, and I handed it to the clerk after I paid the shipping expenses for the package. He handed me back a box about half the size of a shoebox. My heart lifted when I recognized Edward's handwriting on one side of the box. And sure enough, there was his name and our address beneath the sender's details. I caught myself smiling like a fool on my way home. I hadn't expected any post from him. I'd just received a postcard from him a couple of days ago. I couldn't help but wonder what he could have possibly given me and remain so secretive about. In all our recent conversations, he hadn't let anything slip, not once.

I was glad I hadn't picked it up on my way to the theatre, but decided to wait. I wanted to be alone when I opened it. I hurried home, dropped my keys and bag on the sofa, and set the box on the coffee table in front of me. It took me a while to find my way through the endless amount of Sellotape he'd put it in, but eventually I got it open. It was filled almost entirely with bubble wrap. I parted them gently, now excited as for what they could possibly protect.

Eventually I found it, an ornament we bought on the first Christmas we spent together. We found it in a tiny shop in the Village while searching for gifts for our families. It was round and opaque white, and there was a miniature drawing on it, of a village in the middle of a snow storm. The drawing was handmade, and the ornament was about a century old. It had become our favorite ever since.

I looked at my small tree, the one Nathan had helped me bring up here. It was still bare – I promised Emily she could help me decorate it this weekend, after we would decorate theirs. It would be my first piece of decoration, I thought, but stopped myself from crossing the room and hanging it there. Not yet. I brought my attention back to the box. There was a glimpse of red on the bottom of it – an envelope. I reached for it, and carefully tore it open. I laughed when I first caught sight of the card, a cartoon snowman with a huge, unnatural grin. I opened it.

_Dear Bella,_

_I thought you'd want to have this on your tree since you can't be here. I hope it gets there in one piece. I thought it was a legitimate gift because 1 – it's technically a hand-me-down; and 2 – I won't be there for you to throw any fits, and fits without audience are no fun._

_There's something else I got for you, but you'll have to call home as soon as you read this card, and ask me what it is._

_Merry Christmas, sweetheart. _

_Edward._

Considering I'd left him similar instructions on a card I'd dropped into the box I'd just sent Emmett, I couldn't help but wonder whether we had a similar plan in mind. I had the phone in my hand before I even calculated the time in New York. There was no answer, and I meant to leave him a message, when I suddenly heard his breathless voice.

"Hi. It's me."

"Bella!"

The surprise in his voice made me laugh; as if we hadn't spoken every two days or so, no matter how busy I'd been. It was a little after seven for me – only two for him, I suddenly realized. "What are you doing home?"

"My last class was cancelled," he replied. "What's up?"

"I got your card," I smiled.

"Did it get there safely? I put so much bubble wrap in – "

"It's perfect. Thank you."

"I'll miss it on my tree, but I thought you'd want a piece of home with you."

I wanted to tell him it was sweet of him to do that, but I found myself unable to speak. Although most of the tension was behind me now, I still feared emotional outbursts, and I wasn't willing to have one now. I forced myself to get a grip. "What – you said on the card there was something else?"

"Oh, right. Well, it's going to be a late Christmas gift and an early anniversary gift. And it's expensive, but I didn't think you'd mind this time."

A part of me wanted to protest he was spending so much money on nothing, but I thought I'd better just listen. "Are you going to tell me or do I need to guess?"

"Do you _want_ to guess?"

"No," I giggled. "Tell me."

I was sure he was going to taunt me a little longer, but he didn't. "I'm coming to see you."

"_What_?" I gasped, nearly dropping the delicate ornament on the floor. "When?"

"On the fourth. I don't know how they even squeezed me in. It's a Christmas miracle." I heard a smile in his voice. It made me smile too. "You don't have to get me from the airport or anything. I know you're busy. I just wanted to let you know."

My heart swelled with emotion. There was so much I wanted to ask him, so much I wanted to say, but I couldn't let it out. "I love you," was all I managed, in a whisper.

"I love you, too."

Only when we hung up, it dawned on me that it was the most normal conversation we'd had in days. It was as if he forgot to act funny from whichever reason, as if I dropped my baseless suspicion. When I hung the ornament on my tree, I started thinking maybe it _was_ baseless. Maybe I was too fast in judging him. He wouldn't have sounded so happy about coming here if he didn't mean well. He wouldn't go through all this trouble just to break up with me or something. And now when I thought of it, Emmett might as well refer to this. Maybe he decided not to wait for the package to get here. Maybe what he wanted so desperately to tell me was that he was coming over. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was fine.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty – Edward**

It felt as if the world as I'd known it was falling apart. It had been nearly a month since I almost kissed Claire, and I was yet to recover from it. I hadn't told anyone, but at the same time it felt as if everyone knew somehow. I was getting even more paranoid than before, constantly thinking people were looking at me funnily, even people I didn't know. Sometimes it felt as if Bella herself knew. For the first time I was grateful about her being miles away. I was sure she would have figured it all out simply by looking at me. Then again if she hadn't been miles away, I'd never been tempted to think of Claire as a substitution in the first place, I would never have kissed her, and this whole mess would have been spared from me.

I guessed it was my way of laying the blame on someone else, although I knew well there was no one else I could blame; no one but myself. The thing that hurt me most about this whole incident was that _Claire_ had to stop me. I wasn't strong enough to realize that what I was doing was wrong until she had pointed it out to me. I wasn't strong enough to stop. When she rejected me once, I tried a second time, still without entirely grasping what I was doing. It didn't matter that it was hardly even considered a kiss, or that it could have gone much farther than there, and then I'd been in some serious trouble. I felt humiliated just the same. What did it say about me as a person, about my ability to remain committed to my almost fiancée? I didn't want to dwell on it.

I had been avoiding Claire the best I could, which wasn't really that difficult. School suddenly became insanely busy after the Thanksgiving break. The amount of schoolwork I got piled up, combined with the pressure from work, was pulling me under, and I was grateful for it. I didn't even have to come up with an excuse. I bumped into her occasionally in the hallway or in the building's lobby, and always managed to get away with some mumbled apology. I could see she wanted to talk, but I couldn't face her. It wasn't as if she had something to do with this. She didn't push me into anything – not consciously, at least – but speaking about it was going to remind me it had happened, and there was nothing I wanted more but forgetting it.

I hadn't yet dropped my suspicions about Bella and that man, whoever he was, but suddenly it didn't matter. I was consumed by guilt, and even though she had no idea what was going on here, I was desperate to make amends. I guess it was somewhat stupid of me – if she hadn't realized something was up until then, she was bound to, as a result of that – but I didn't stop to think about it. I needed to do something to make me feel good about myself again, something to assure me I still had her, that _us_ still existed.

This was partly how I'd come up with the nearly impossible plan of flying to London on New Year. A month or so before Christmas, most of the flights over were nearly fully booked. It meant I was going to miss a few days of school again, but I didn't care. I'd told myself that all we needed was seeing each other, even if for a few days. Things would work themselves out as soon as we did.

So I sent her our first Christmas ornament with a secretive card, instructing her to call me so I could tell her personally about my imminent visit. It was tough keeping things away from her, especially when we were talking on the phone so often. In more than one occasion, I was close to telling her, but I wanted to wait for her to get the card first. I knew she was having a hard time, and it was strange not to be there for her to see her through it, so I was trying to do all I could to make her happy, even if from a distance.

She was a magnificent dancer, but not that good an actress, so I knew she couldn't have faked that gleeful reaction when I finally told her. It encouraged me. Another man or not, she sounded as if she was looking forward for my visit, just as much as I had. Maybe things weren't as hopeless as I pretended they had been.

xoxox

For the first time in forever, I wasn't going to spend Christmas in Forks. My parents were coming over here again, mostly in order to save Emmett and Rosalie the trouble of flying across the country with the baby. We didn't want them to stay in a hotel on Christmas, but now that one of the two spare rooms in Emmett and Rosalie's place – the bigger one – had been turned into a nursery, there wasn't enough room for two extra people there, unless one of them took the couch. I suggested one of my parents would come and stay at my place since they were going to spend a few days with us. Knowing that my mother would probably want to spend time with Jade, my father said he would.

Emmett and I went to pick them up from the airport. We hardly spoke as we waited for their flight to arrive. He was exhausted after another sleepless night. I hadn't been very talkative these days, not since I realized he wouldn't be very helpful aside for scolding me for suspecting Bella. He ventured in the direction of the café as soon as we walked in, and got me coffee too without even asking if I wanted one. I nodded wordlessly as I took the plastic cup from him.

I looked at the board; their flight was just arriving. It was blinking in faint orange on the giant screen that hung over our heads. There was a flight coming from Heathrow listed right below my parents'. I tried not to linger too much on it. I forced myself to look anywhere but at it. I didn't want to think about what ifs. She could have been on that flight. She could have spent Christmas at home with all of us. Instead she was away, and it was going to be our first Christmas apart. I didn't realize how much this revelation hurt until this moment.

Emmett asked me some random questions; I tried to be as responsive as I could to save me his reproach. The airport was swarming with people, families especially, and the noise was overwhelming, closing in on me. I just wanted to get out of there. I could only imagine how it sounded like to Emmett, having spent the majority of the previous night awake with his baby girl against his shoulder.

Thankfully, our parents didn't take long to come out. They both looked weary but excited, as they had always had when they came to see us. My mother's fatigue was all gone when she hugged each of us in turn. My father shook both our hands. We chatted a little on the way out, but Emmett couldn't hide his huge yawns. I hailed a taxi first for him and my mom, and then for me and my dad.

"Emmett looks out of it," my dad commented as we got into our own taxi.

I laughed. "Don't tell _him_ that. He thinks he's Superman."

"I was just like him when he was born. You think you can do it all when your first child is born." He gave me this know-all look, and I could feel my face grow warm beneath his hinting stare. He didn't even know I had proposed to Bella, but he would never ask. Even my mother knew better than pestering me about marriage and family. After four, almost five years now, they were used to things as they were.

During the ride back to my place, we spoke mostly of Alice. She'd just got accepted into this really prestigious dance troupe – I was at loss against her ecstatic babble to even get its name right. The only thing I did know for sure was that their focus was contemporary dance, which was her passion, that they were famous nationwide, and that she was joining them for the winter tour right after the holiday season. We were all really proud of her, and grateful to have her home for Christmas so we could celebrate this first milestone in her career. Jasper was going to join her during the tour, and I thought how lucky they were to be able to keep one another despite their varied paths and interests. Maybe if I were more flexible, like Jasper…

But there were no maybes. Bella had made her choice, and I had made mine. Now we had to deal with the consequences of these choices

"So how are things going?" My dad asked me as the taxi pulled into a stop in front of our building. I reached for my wallet, but he stopped me with this stern look and paid the fair himself. The driver wished us Merry Christmas in a thick accent I couldn't quite place. I followed my father out.

"School is busy." I reached for his suitcase, ignoring his protest. "I've got a lot of work piling up because I spend so much time at Emmett's. I'm trying to do as much as I can while I'm there. Luckily Jade seems to like the piano," I smiled fondly, thinking of my niece.

"She'll always have great respect for music. Rosalie will take care of that."

"Until Emmett ruins everything she's so carefully constructed," I laughed, and opened the door. As soon as I did, I halted with a gasp, a warning of sorts, but it was already too late. The person who was about to step out had already bumped into me full force. I held my arms out instinctively to catch whoever it was. And then my eyes met hers, and my arms froze around her. My laughter died out at once. Claire.

"Oops," she flashed a crooked grin at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled, keeping my gaze on my shoes as I removed my arms.

"Long time no see," she commented softly. "How are you?"

The question was quiet, careful. I dared to look up. Her eyes were serious, searching. She knew what I'd been doing. She knew I'd been intentionally avoiding her. It hurt her. My heart twitched with guilt. I tried not to flinch. "I'm good. Thank you."

She looked as if she wanted to say more, but then her eyes wandered to my father. His hand was still on the door as he stood there halfway between the street and the lobby of the building. He was observing us with a puzzled expression. I felt my face grow pale. I was sure that one look at me would reveal everything that happened about a month ago, as little as it had been.

"Claire, this is my dad Carlisle. Dad, this is Claire Davis, she's our neighbor."

There was surprise in my father's eyes. Nonetheless he shook her hand and asked her how long she'd been living here. She answered his questions, but I could sense her discomfort. For one moment I was grateful it was him coming to stay with me, and not my mother.

I didn't realize they had stopped talking, and her eyes were on me again. I started, then blinked, mentally kicking myself. _Get a grip!_ "I just slipped a note under your door. I'm going away tomorrow for a few days."

"Chicago?" I guessed.

"Yeah. I'll be back right before New Year." She paused, and gave me this hopeful look. "Maybe I'll see you then?"

There was so much more in this question than she let show. I shook my head. "I won't be here when you're back." To the silent question in her eyes, I added, "I'm going to London."

"Oh." There was this tiny, nearly invisible flicker of emotion in her eyes at that, but it was gone as soon as I detected it. "When you're back, then."

"Sure." I swallowed my discomfort, and struggled to meet her gaze again. "Merry Christmas, Claire."

"Merry Christmas," she whispered, said goodbye to my father, and turned to go.

Her note was on the floor, as promised, but it was more of a letter than a note. I knelt to pick it up as my father shut the door behind us. The envelope was dark green and blank. It didn't even have my name on it. I idly wondered why she hadn't left it in my mailbox, or stuck a post-it to it, like we'd so often done before that incident on Thanksgiving. But I didn't have to be a genius to figure out the answer. Whatever it was she'd written, she wanted to make sure I'd get it, and read it privately, to judge by the envelope she'd put it in, which was also unusual.

"She seems nice," my father commented, eyeing the envelope. "I didn't know you were close to any of your neighbors."

"Claire is new in the building. She… we have a lot in common," was all I managed. He gave me this close look, one that told me exactly where Emmett got his probing stare. Unlike Emmett, though, he said nothing else. I knew what he was really wondering about.

"I think I'll start unpacking," he said quietly, and reached for the suitcase that stood between us.

"Do you need me to – "

"No, that's fine. I know my way."

He left me alone. I could hear him making his way down the hallway, stopping at the guestroom I'd got ready for him, opening the door. He didn't shut it all the way, so I heard the zipper of the suitcase as he got it open. I darted to the kitchen counter and took a seat on one of the stools. Slowly, and nearly holding my breath while doing so, I tore the envelope open. It was a Christmas card. I opened it and held it flat against the counter. It was filled from top to bottom in small, hasty handwriting, as if she had a lot to say but limited space to say it all. That alone was a bad sign. I took a deep breath, and – somewhat fretfully – started reading.

_Edward._

_I'm not doing this face to face not only because I'm awful in confrontations like this, but also because I know there's a good chance you'll just walk away and ignore me for another month. Avoiding a letter is never easy – eventually you'll be curious and read it, even if you won't do it right away. _

_You're a horrible actor, arguably even worse than me, and that says a lot, as you well know. I know what happened a month ago still bothers you. I just wish it wouldn't, though, because nothing happened, really. You should beat yourself up over not getting my any Christmas cards, not over that. It's hardly worth it. No hard feelings, honestly. Trust me, you would have known if I was offended in any way. I would have punched you long before that._

_I wish you'd talk to me. I know it's probably easy for you to keep it all in like you've done with Bella a while ago, but I sort of hoped you've learnt the lesson of that time already. I think you'll feel much better talking about this with someone. Have I mentioned I was a good listener?_

_What I'm trying to say, not very successfully, is that our friendship is too important for me to give it up. It's been a while since I had someone I could trust enough to open up to. I found this someone in you. I wish you didn't take it away from me. _

_I'll be spending Christmas at my parents'. I'm leaving tomorrow morning, but I'll be home on the twenty ninth. If you feel like talking, please come over. I'll be waiting anyway, because I'm really that pathetic._

_Merry Christmas._

_Claire._

I flipped the card close. There was a smiling Santa on the front of the card, but his smile looked too cheerful, and so wrong. I felt horrible. I missed spending time with her too, but it felt as if things would never be the same again after what happened – or nearly happened. Cutting her completely out of my life was impossible, not just because our friendship had become important to me too, but because I knew the consequences of trying to shut someone out – I'd already hurt one person by trying to do so.

I really did feel bad about not getting her a Christmas card. The thought crossed my mind when I got the card for Bella, but ended up not getting one for Claire. If I got her one now, she'd know it was because I felt guilty, and it would lose its point. So I just decided to man it up and go talking to her when both of us were back in town. I didn't want to do it as long as my father was staying with me, so I wouldn't have to answer more questions. Besides, she was leaving tomorrow, and it was actually a good thing. It would give me enough time to get over myself. Maybe, like I was hoping to do with Bella, I could set things right again.

xoxox

On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, I called Charlie. He was watching Sophie while my parents were away. I felt bad for him. Since the first Christmas Bella and I had spent together, my parents had always invited the two of them to join us on Christmas Eve, knowing they had no one but each other. It had never ceased to surprise me that Charlie showed up year after year, probably because Bella had insisted. This year, he was on his own again. I hoped it wouldn't be too lonely for him.

I called him before my father and I headed to Emmett and Rosalie's place. He sounded surprised to hear me. "You just missed Bella by half an hour," he laughed softly, and then the sound died out a little. "How are you holding up?"

"I'll be fine." It seemed pointless to pretend with him. I knew we had this one thing in comment. We both missed her. "I just called to say Merry Christmas, Charlie. I hope Sophie is not driving you crazy."

"Oh, no, it's not to have her around. She's quiet. She sleeps a lot. You can tell your mom that she's fine."

"Do you have any plans for today?"

"Not much," he confessed. "It's snowing, so there's no point fishing, but a few friends of mine from the reservation might come over to watch the game tomorrow."

I was tempted to ask if one of them was Billy Black, Jacob's father, but I stopped myself on time.

"Anyway, thanks for calling, Edward. I… really appreciate it."

I knew it had taken a lot for him to say something like that. "No problem."

"Bella is lucky to have you."

I thought that if he knew what I'd almost done to her, he'd happily shoot me with his work weapon. "I'm the one who's lucky, sir." Every word was like a dagger to my heart.

"Don't worry, kid. She'll be home soon."

I smiled wryly to myself. I really hoped I could be as optimistic.

xoxox

Tonight was less crowded than a month ago on Thanksgiving, but just as noisy. Rosalie's parents spent the holiday with some relatives, so it was just us, the Cullen clan. Alice's parents surprised everyone and came over as well, and even Jasper joined us. Since him and Alice didn't have the advantage Bella and I had (with Charlie living with such close proximity to my parents and always had), they spent Christmas one year in Forks, another in Texas. This year was technically to be spent in Forks, but since we were staying in New York, they didn't have to travel far. It was fortunate, especially considering we wouldn't see much of them once they went on the road.

Our Thanksgiving feast paled comparing to the enormous piles of food we'd set on our Christmas table. As before, everyone had prepared something. Not having Claire to help me out, I struggled to bake a cake by myself. I spent a week experimenting, determined to get it right, and eventually, I thought I did. Emmett alone had two and a half slices. I thought that was a good sign.

It started snowing at some point of the evening, and we all deserted our plates and stuck our noses to the windows, fascinated by the way the city had turned white. Even in my somber mood, it was easy to become victim to the light atmosphere. You just couldn't sulk in a night such as this one. Emmett and Rosalie's tree looked gorgeous – we'd worked on it the previous week, imitating the tradition at my parents' house. It was glimmering now, when the dozens of ornaments met the sparkling lights. There were many presents at its feet, including one giant box wrapped in red Emmett acted all secretive about. He wouldn't tell anyone what it was. I assumed he got Jade her first sneakers or something, although it was too big a box for that. For Emmett, two months was as good as any other age. If it was up to him, he would have got her a bike.

Rosalie and I took turns on the piano as we all sang Christmas carols. Normally I wouldn't stoop to such clichés, but the atmosphere was contagious. Little Jade brought out the sappy side of us, I thought. Emmett wandered about with that annoying camera of his, but I didn't mind him this time. We all got a little drunk – even my father, who was normally the most reserved, even more than me.

Finally, Emmett announced we were going to open some presents. We decided to exchange gifts tonight instead of in the morning, since we weren't spending the night together. Obviously, Jade got most of the presents. She had enough clothes and toys, so I made her the same gift I had for Bella's birthday, a few years back, a CD with some lullabies on it. I wouldn't let Emmett ruin her with sport stuff, I decided. Emmett, expectedly enough, made a face when I explained to Rose what it was. Rosalie was delighted, of course, and made me her second in command in the musical education of her baby girl.

And there were the usual stuff – some music and books for my father and me, giant sports shoes for Emmett, a random computer gadget for Jasper, some designer's item for Alice, jewelries for Rosalie and my mother. We cheered for the original gifts and mock-groaned for the predictable ones. At some point we made an actual game out of it, running bets based on the size of the gift, the one who got it, and the person they got it for.

Finally, when the number of gifts below the tree lessened considerably, Emmett placed the big box on the table and cleared his throat, then waited very dramatically until everyone quieted down.

"Do you have another baby in there?" My mother joked, which got everyone roaring again.

"Or a puppy?" Alice interjected, scooting closer, until she was kneeling right beside the table.

"Stop guessing," Emmett laughed, jokingly slapping Alice's hand away when she tried to rip the red paper. Then he began doing it himself, speaking as he did: "I added it so you wouldn't be able to see what it is and who this is from."

He wasn't very careful, and pretty soon everyone could see what it was. The box seemed completely ordinary without the shiny gift wrapper he had added on it. But what caught my eye was a bunch of Royal Mail stickers on one side of it, and Bella's handwriting on the other. I straightened in my seat. Everyone seemed to be noticing it at the same moment I had, but I hardly heard their excited gasps. My gaze was set on her name.

Emmett's eyes caught the movement, and his naughty grin curled wider than ever. "Why don't you do the honor, little bro," he said, beckoning at me to move closer.

I bit my lip, but approached him anyway. I was sure they could all read the guilt in my tortured expression. All I could think about was how the hell she had managed to hide it so well. Clearly Emmett had been in the secret, but he hadn't said anything either. I was genuinely surprised he had managed to keep his mouth shut.

We got the box open, and took out the bubble wrap she had padded it with. It contained what looked like candy of all shapes and sizes, and many smaller packages, each nicely wrapped with the name of its recipient on it. There was an envelope on top of everything, addressed to everyone. I pulled it out and opened it. The card had three penguins on it, with Santa hats and _Merry Christmas_ curling over their heads in sparkling letters. I didn't trust my voice, and I wouldn't endure any sort of humiliation from Emmett, so I just handed it to him. He made a whole show of clearing his throat before he read it.

_Dear everyone,_

_In case Emmett hasn't yet told you what this box is all about, it's my way of being with you without being with you. I miss you every day, and I can't wait to see you again soon. Give big hugs to baby Jade for me._

_I love you all._

_Bella._

"She's something, this kid, isn't she?" Emmett asked as he flipped the card close, not even waiting for the 'awww's to cease. He was beaming straight at me. I tried not to cringe.

Emmett had made me his helper, and together we started distributing everything in Bella's box. The candy had all sorts of unfamiliar labels. The chocolate and jelly beans and the rest of it had no names on it, so we just set it all on the table and decided to divide the loot equally between us later.

She had got something for everyone, even Rosalie's parents, as if she assumed they'd be with us. Emmett seemed especially thrilled by a tee shirt of some soccer team or something. She got Jade a similar baby suit. My parents seemed touched by what she'd given them – a first edition of something for my father, a miniature music box for my mother. Alice squealed quite loudly over three pairs of fuzzy leg warmers.

Finally, there was an envelope with my name on it. It was the last item in the box, aside for a few chocolate bars that slipped to the bottom. I snatched it from Emmett's hands and opened it, turning my back on him. It was another card, smaller than the one she got everyone. It was white with bright blue, sparkling snowflakes on it. She added in her handwriting _All I Want for Christmas…_ on top. I ventured to the other side of the room before I opened it. She stuck in a photo of mistletoe (as if she couldn't find a card with a picture in it), under which she added, again in her writing,

_... is you._

_Emmett made me promise I'd keep my gift G-rated, and so if you need further explanations about what this card means, call me so I can, umm, explain myself better._

I felt blush begin to creep onto my face. I knew Emmett's eyes were on me even though he was across the room. I was having a hard time maintaining composed expression. It was quite clear what her intention had been. I hoped no one would ask me how come she had only sent me a card. Resisting the urge to call her now, to ask her if she'd gone out of her mind, I went over to the other room where my coat had been, and hid the card in one of the pockets. Then I heard Emmett's voice, urging me to go back. He still had that goofy grin on when I joined them, as if he knew exactly what that card contained.

"Ours next," my mother said, beaming at me as she handed me another envelope. This one was thin and rectangular, so it couldn't be another card.

I threw her an inquiring look, but opened it anyway. I gasped as soon as I pulled it out – I recognized the logo of the airline. I looked up, confused.

"You're looking a little sad these days," she said, as if it was a suitable explanation. I read the destination on the ticket again. It was for Heathrow.

"But I'm already – "

Emmett snorted. "Check the dates, butthead."

There were muffled giggles all around me, as if they'd all been in on the secret. Feeling my face redden again, I double checked the ticket. It was for five days before my designated flight.

"We already switched your other ticket," my father said as my shocked stare shifted between him and my mother.

"We thought you could use a few extra days with her," my mother added, smiling.

"You'd better bring back some of that good stuff," Emmett said, his mouth full of chocolate.

I held on to the ticket as if my life depended on it. I was absolutely speechless, amazed they would do something like that for me. I knew what it took to get seats on a flight anywhere on Christmas time. I bet they had to pull a few strings to get it. I walked over to my mother and gave her a hug, still in a bit of a haze.

"How did you even…" I started, but soon faltered. Some things had better be left unasked.

I just sat there with that idiotic smile across my lips and silently endured my brother's teasing. Knowing I was leaving in less than a week made all the difference in the world. And I wouldn't tell her. I couldn't wait to see her face. I thought about her card, hidden inside my coat. _All I want for Christmas is you_.

Well, that was exactly what she was going to get.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty One – Bella**

Christmas week was a blur of cast parties, endless gifts, and of course a mass of performances that wasn't as horrible as I feared it would be. After our matinee on Christmas Eve, the dressing rooms emptied faster than ever before. Everyone was in a rush to get someplace. One of the guys a few doors down began to sing Christmas carols, and somehow his voice was carried above the usual mayhem in the hallways. Pretty soon everyone joined in the singing, each in their respective rooms, most of them horribly off-tune, but somehow it didn't matter. I caught myself humming to my reflection when I removed my makeup.

It was impossible not to get caught up in the exhilaration of the theatre. At some point, homesickness just sort of dissipated. The cast was like a surrogate family for one another. Anyone who lived too far away from home spent the holiday with someone else. I was going to spend the next day with Ivan at his grandmother's place – he'd breezed into the dressing room to remind me before he headed home, as he was spending tonight with some friends.

There were about three people by the stage door by the time I stepped out, and none of them took notice of me as I crossed the street and hurried to the Tube. Nathan was supposed to pick me up around six to drop some stuff at their place, and then head for Emily's school. I was strangely excited about it. In the past few weeks I'd hardly seen them, and when I did, it was for such a short time it hardly counted. I was grateful for the chance to just chill out this evening after this busy month.

I chose my outfit with care, reveling at the opportunity to dress up on the one hand, yet not wanting to overdo it. I slipped into a pair of dark blue jeans I'd hardly worn since I got here, and a black V-neck sweater. They matched the scarf Ivan got me for Christmas, which was knitted by hand and had patches of various fabrics on it. I kept my hair down – it was too cold not to. A knock came at the door just as I zipped up my boots, but when I saw Nathan on my doorway, I nearly turned back to change. He froze on the threshold, his eyes widening ever so slightly.

"What?" I asked sort of nervously. Maybe I _had_ overdone it?

My question made him snap out of it. "Oh, nothing, it's just…" He shook his head, and smiled sheepishly. "You look lovely." There was this shadow in his gaze which made me wonder what he was thinking about. Christmas must be such a difficult time for him. In a holiday that had been associated with family and togetherness, some people's loneliness – like Nathan or my dad – sort of stood out. And although my dad had successfully absorbed himself in his routine of work and fishing, seven years didn't seem to have the same impact on Nathan. He looked far from being used to it. "Are you ready?" he asked then, and melancholy disappeared without a trace. By the time we parked in front of the school building, he was himself again.

We drew more attention than I'd seen a need to prepare myself for. Clearly, Nathan was well-known at Emily's school, and I knew how it probably looked like, us showing up there together. I could feel people's eyes on my back, and although I heard neither whispers nor questions, I could imagine they were there, hovering discreetly. To the few who were more courageous than others, he introduced me as 'a friend of the family' and mentioned I danced for the English National Ballet, which worked well as a diversion every single time.

Emily did really well that evening. Although she didn't get the leading role, she was glowing on that stage. Despite her young age, I could easily picture her in a real show a few years into the future. I knew Nathan wouldn't approve of my prediction – he was very much like Charlie in his over-protectiveness – so I kept quiet, and felt a pang of pride swelling within me. I felt very lucky to know this little girl this evening.

To my surprise, dinner was great. I should have known Nathan was just being modest; he was actually a good cook. Only after dismissing my compliments with sheepish smiles, he admitted cooking was his other passion, after Shakespeare. He liked to experiment – Emily, his subject most of the time, liked it less – but he stuck to safe dishes tonight so it wouldn't scare me away.

Emily was impossibly more hyper after the performance. She demanded our constant attention once we got home and for the rest of the evening. She asked us dozens of questions about the play and her character, as if she wanted to make sure we were paying attention. It felt like she was giving us a pop quiz. In more than one occasion, I held my breath until a random dish she picked up found its way safely back to the table. Luckily, nothing was smashed or broken.

We moved to the living room and had tea with chocolate muffins. Emily announced she would stay awake as long as it took to see Santa. Nathan winked at me from over her head, as if he'd known the promise wouldn't hold. Nathan agreed she'd open one present tonight, and I gave her my own, the one we hid when we'd dropped the food earlier. I got her a purple wool hat with two pompons hanging out of the top – the practical gift, as Nathan referred to it. It was my other gift that earned me a bone-crushing hug. When I went to get myself new ballet slippers, I saw purple ones, which reminded me of Alice's metallic blue pair, the one she had when we first met. They seemed to be in Emily's size, so I got them for her. After knocking the breath out of me, Emily declared she would never ever wear them, so she wouldn't ruin them. I flashed a victorious grin at Nathan. Clearly, useless was much more successful than practical.

I got Nathan a tie, light grey with stripes in various shades of blue, one that looked less dull than the one he'd usually worn. He rolled his eyes when he saw it, clearly getting my intentions. He got me a hard copy of _Wuthering Heights_ bound in scarlet leather with golden rims, an early edition. Emily wrinkled her nose at that. She failed to understand the excitement of getting a _book_ for Christmas, and such an old one at that. She made him promise he'd never get her anything of the sort as a holiday gift.

We watched TV together, some sappy Christmas movie Emily chose, and Nathan and I spent most of it teasing her during the cliché moments. But, like Nathan had formerly predicted, she didn't even last until the end of the movie. He carried her to her bedroom, and I followed. She was like an oversized rug doll as we got her ready to bed. I threw the covers back as he put her in bed. Our fingers brushed briefly against one another when he reached out for the covers to tuck her in. I flashed him an apologetic smile, but it slowly faded when I looked up and caught sight of his expression.

I dropped my gaze, feeling self-conscious beneath his fathomless, strangely contemplative stare. He was clearly thinking about something, and I found myself curious again as for what it was. He said nothing as he leaned forward to touch his lips to Emily's forehead. Then, without really looking at me, he sidled, allowing me to step forward and imitate the motion. I placed the purple slippers on her bedside. He waited for me on the doorway, letting me walk passed him back into the dimly lit hallway.

He led the way downstairs. It wasn't even eleven, and I didn't feel like going home. I knew how lonely it would feel once I got there, and I wanted to delay that for as long as I could. I could sense he didn't feel like staying alone, too, although he never actually said anything. Knowing him, he never would.

He told me to go back to the living room. The TV was still on. I leaned back against the armrest, feeling stuffed and a little sleepy from the food and the heat that sipped from the radiator. I scooted to one corner of the sofa and reached for the remote. _Grease_ was on. I placed the remote next to me, nodding to myself. It wouldn't be my first choice for a Christmas film, but it could have been worse.

Nathan's emergence into the room disrupted my absentminded gaze at the screen. I blinked, somewhat disoriented, and wondered if I'd fallen asleep without realizing it. On screen, John Travolta was telling his friends about the car of his dreams. Their dance made me dizzy. I didn't remember watching the scene that took place before this one. A snigger over my head made me blink again. Nathan blocked my field of vision for a moment before he took a seat. I looked at what he'd placed on the coffee table: a bowl of chocolate chip cookies and a bottle of red wine.

I cocked one eyebrow when he poured the ruby liquid into two glasses. "Cookies and wine?"

"Says the girl who watches _Grease_ on Christmas Eve?" he backfired, as he handed me a glass. Then he sank into the other end of the sofa.

I took a tiny sip. I didn't react to alcohol very well – never had – but I didn't want to offend him. We spoke of nothing in particular. He told me tales about some of the people we'd bumped into earlier at school, which led to me making fun of him for being so informed with primary school gossip. I told him about my plans with Ivan for the next day; he told me about his plans with Emily.

"I don't think I thank you enough for your patience with Emily," he said then, and the conversation instantly shifted into a more serious note. "I watched the two of you earlier. It amazes me how well she interacts with you. She's a friendly child, but she doesn't get attached so easily and so fast."

"That's understandable, under the circumstances, I think," I said quietly. I still couldn't believe her mom had just… left her behind. If Emily couldn't trust her own mother to stick with her, how had anyone expected her to trust anybody?

Nathan's forehead creased, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, but he didn't defend her as he'd normally do. "My point is that she acts differently with you. She's lucky to have you." He raised his eyes to mine, and I realized I'd seen this dark stare before. Then his next words hit, a vocal expression of the thing I was sure he was thinking earlier in Emily's bedroom. "_We_ are lucky to have you."

Suddenly he was right next to me, and I didn't even remember seeing him move. Awareness came crashing at me; my senses sharpened, but it was all a second too late. I realized what he was doing only when he leaned towards me, and his lips touched mine.

It happened too fast for me to be able to pull away. His lips were cold, tasting faintly of wine. It was miles different than my first kiss with Edward, the one we shared on the doorway of Emmett's apartment all those years ago. There was no urgency, no inconsumable fire, no tumble of emotion. My lips remained non-responsive beneath his, but it didn't seem to bother him.

It could have been so easy to give in to him, to satisfy my nearly aching yearning to be held by someone, to ignore the complications and consequences such a decision would surely entail. In the past few months he'd become one of my closest friends here, but it was his comfort I'd been seeking, nothing more. In another lifetime, I could see myself acting differently. Under different circumstances I would have returned his kiss, maybe even turn it into something closer to that other one I remembered so well, and far beyond it. I could have done all that easily, if my heart wasn't tied to Edward's so completely.

Slowly, gently, I pulled back. "Nathan, don't do this," I whispered.

"Why?" His voice was hoarse, his gaze disoriented. It was as if he hadn't entirely grasped what he was doing.

"You know why." I thought I understood it all now: his halt when he first saw me that evening, his frozen smile at people's open stares at the performance, that strange gaze he'd aimed at me up there in Emily's room. I took advantage on his lack of focus, and shifted a little farther from him. I looked straight at him, even though I wasn't sure he truly saw me. "I'm not her. I can never be her."

For the longest time, he was motionless. Then, slowly, he moved away from me and put his head between his palms. "I'm such an idiot," he groaned.

"No, you're not. You just miss her."

"And that's not your definition of idiocy? Missing someone after nearly seven years of them being gone?"

"Not if she means that much to you."

"It doesn't matter." He was still speaking into his hands. "She's not coming back." He looked up, and his expression was heart-wrenching as if it was the first time he had admitted it to himself.

I didn't say anything. I didn't think it was my place to tell him that finally, he got it. She wasn't coming back. So I just sat there and waited for him to recover from this revelation. When he did, he looked panicked. "Please forgive me, for what I've just… I wasn't myself. I can't believe I've just…"

"Don't worry about it," I shook my head, and scooted closer. His hands were now in his lap; I reached out for one of them. He flinched ever so slightly, but let me take his hand.

"Too much wine;" His crooked smile was bitter. He seemed to have a hard time keeping his eyes on mine.

"It's not worth beating yourself up over it. You can't stop living. I'm just… not the right person to start with, that's all."

He nodded, as if he understood. His haze was distant now, listless.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No," he said too fast, and then sighed. "I don't. But I think you should."

He called a cab as I searched for my shoes and coat. I joined him in the living room and he walked me to the door in silence. I didn't know what to say. I wasn't offended by his request I'd leave. I knew what he feared would happen if I stayed. I was reluctant to leave him alone in this state of misery, but on the other hand, it seemed to be for the best.

"So, next week is the big day?"

He didn't need to ask more. I knew exactly what he was referring to. Blush seemed instinctive. "Yes."

"Excited?"

"Not yet," I laughed softly. "I don't think it hit me he's coming."

"It's very sweet of him to come. Busy time at the airlines. How long will he be here?"

"Just a few days. He's going to miss school again."

He cocked an eyebrow, amused. "You don't approve?"

"Well, I can't complain," I laughed. He clicked the door open. "Good night."

"Bella, wait." I turned to face him. His dark eyes met mine with silent pleading. "Everything is alright… between us. Right?"

"Of course." Nothing actually happened. Whether he _was_ acting out of loneliness or not, he knew it was something I couldn't reciprocate. There was no point holding grudges and making him feel even more horrible than he already had.

He seemed relieved by my reply. Nonetheless, his smile was careful. "Merry Christmas. And we'll see you at the stage door in a few days."

I knew his gift – two tickets for _The Nutcracker_ in a few days – would be far better than anything I'd given Emily this evening. He'd kept it a secret from her, and meant to tell her the next morning. "I'll look for you in the audience," I promised.

He smiled again, with slightly more confidence. I returned it, and turned to go. The cab was already waiting in front. As we pulled back into traffic, I looked back, just when he was slowly shutting the door behind him.

xoxox

Ivan's grandmother lived over an hour away from central London, and we had to switch trains twice on the way there. Ivan was in a cheerful mood. I told him how last night had been, leaving out the kiss incident because I didn't feel like sharing, not even with him. He spent last night with some of the other dancers who didn't have a chance to go home, and he told me all about this club they hung out at right after dinner. His favorite drag performer, Midnight Sun, went onstage for a few songs. I thought it was a silly stage name, even for a drag queen, and I told him as much. He shook his head and said I didn't understand anything, and promised he'd introduce us sometime.

"So do you have everything set for your gorgeous boyfriend's visit?"

There was something businesslike in his tone I didn't like. I turned to him fretfully. "Everything?"

"You know, the essentials. Clean your flat, change sheets, shave your legs, get French lingerie – "

"_Why_ do I need French lingerie?" I cut him off in a hiss, my cheeks flaring. I was sure every single person who shared the car with us could hear our conversation. I could have sworn the man across from me leaned forward in his seat, listening carefully while hiding behind his newspaper.

He looked horrified at my query. "Girl, you did _not_ just ask me this question! Why do I need them, she asks," he muttered to himself, and threw a scolding glare at me. "Don't you _know_ anything?"

"Not as much as you seem to," I rolled my eyes.

"Well, luckily I have about a week to reeducate you, thank goodness! Believe me, he will thank me when I'm done with you."

"I hope you're not planning on getting lucky, because it's not going to happen."

"A guy can dream," he smiled, batting his lashes, and then leaped out of his seat and pull at my arm. "Come on, darling, here's our stop."

The station we got down at wasn't underground, and his grandmother lived a few minutes' walk from there. The weather was dire, and we half walked, half jogged, not wanting to get caught out in case the rain resumed. Ivan was younger than me when his parents got divorced, and since his grandfather died about the same time, his mom and him moved in with his grandmother. They didn't have a big family – he wasn't in touch with his dad and his new family, and his only aunt and her family lived in Australia, so they were never around during the holidays. His grandmother and mom were the only family he had, and the three of them were really close.

Ivan's mom was spending this Christmas in Spain with some friends, and so it was just his grandmother and him this year. His grandmother spent the other night at her friend's house, which was why he stayed at the city instead of joining her as he'd normally do.

"I adore my gran, I really do," he told me for the dozen time as we crossed the street. I could see that he did; he had that glimmer in his eyes, the same one I must have had whenever I spoke about Madame Claudine, my former ballet teacher, who had always been like a grandmother to me.

"She's so reasonable and down-to-earth. She helped me come up with my stage name. My mom still calls me Mark from time to time, but my grandmother never does. She's always accepted me the way I am, and respected my choices. I love my mom, but it was more difficult with her. Lawyers think differently, I guess," he flashed a sad smile at me. "She's okay with the dancing bit, but I think she secretly hopes I'll get back to my senses someday, and show up with a girl under my arm." He grinned at me as he rang the doorbell. "Which is why it's so fortunate she's not here today."

Pam Templeton was younger than I assumed she would be, and oozing warmth just like her grandson. She was small – you could barely see her once Ivan put his arms around her – and thin. Her grey hair was tied backwards. Her eyes were that same unique blue, exactly like his.

"It's so nice to meet you," she told me as she shook my hand. "It's always lovely to meet Ivan's friends. And he tells me you're an American! Wonderful city, New York."

"Really is," I smiled, a bit taken aback by her liveliness. I'd always thought grandmothers should be more… laid back. Then again I had nothing to compare her to, aside for Edward's grandfather maybe, and he was much more reserved. She was exactly how I'd imagine Alice as a grown woman.

"How do you like London, dear?" she asked as she ushered us in. It was warm inside, and the house smelt of pine and unrecognizable cooking.

"I love it." I smiled gratefully at Ivan as he took my coat.

"Are people treating you kindly? Let me know if my grandson misbehaves. I'm afraid we've been overly spoiling him all these years."

I considered telling on him for embarrassing me on the train earlier, but kept quiet. "He's behaving, so far."

"Why, thank you very much, Miss Swan," he pouted, pretending to scoff.

We chatted over lunch. She wanted to know about the place I'd come from, so I told her about Phoenix and Forks, and about living in New York. We told her what we'd been up to at work, and she seemed to enjoy our tales about some of our colleagues. She'd always loved ballet, she said, but her mother would never let her go to lessons. She'd vowed she would never do that to her daughter, if she had one, but it was her daughter, Ivan's mom, who didn't express much interest eventually.

Pam relived her passion for ballet through her grandson. She was his biggest fan. She came up with a furious letter for the management of the Royal Ballet when they rejected Ivan (she still had it someplace, for she didn't have a chance to send it), and cried with joy when he got accepted to the English National Ballet. There was a time when it was easier for her to get to central London often, and she'd gone to many of the company's performances and known everyone in the ensemble by name. She knew every professional term of every position, some of which I'd forgotten myself. I was impressed by how much she knew, considering she wasn't actually practicing ballet and never had. I told her as much.

"That has to be the nicest compliment anyone ever paid me," she told me. She threw a glance at Ivan, and grinned mischievously at me. "Maybe _you_ will take him and make his mother happy." There was a smirk in her voice, as if they'd played this joke on any of Ivan's female friends.

Ivan rolled his eyes in reply. "I'm after her boyfriend, thank you very much."

She looked at me with interest. "Is he a dancer, too?"

"No. He's a pianist. He's doing his Masters in Juilliard."

Ivan sighed wistfully, enviously. "A New Yorker _and_ a pianist."

"He's also _engaged_, remember?" I retorted, but it didn't have the desired effect.

"Oh, no. You can't use _that_ title whenever you feel like it. It doesn't count until you're wearing the ring."

"Yes, it does!"

"Ah, just you wait until I corner him next week. He's coming to see her on New Year; how sweet is that?" he explained his grandmother.

"It seems to me that stealing this young lady's fiancé isn't going to work," she said, grinning at me. Somehow I had the distinct feeling that Pam Templeton and I were going to get along really well.

xoxox

The next few days had gone by in a haze. The holiday atmosphere was keeping us all on our feet, which was fortunate. As long as we didn't crash, we were fine. We had a few more days of _The Nutcracker_, and the opening of _The Snow Queen_ was scheduled for the beginning of January. Our next production wasn't due until sometime in May, so I hoped for some calmer times. As long as we were at the House, I didn't mind it much. It would leave me some time to get myself together.

Nathan and Emily had tickets for the evening performance, and knowing that, I hurried back into my dressing room as soon as we were finished. Things went back to normal between Nathan and me after the incident on Christmas Eve. I hadn't seen them since then, but we spoke on the phone a few times in the past four days, and I was relieved it didn't change things much, aside for awkward silences every now and again. It was so easy to slip from there into a much darker place, but we didn't. I think it was mostly because of Emily, and an unconscious decision on both our sides to keep things normal for her sake.

He called me that morning to say they'd take me to dinner after the show, and after two performances in a row with almost nothing to eat in between, I was starving. I buttoned my grey coat and wrapped a scarf around my neck, said goodnight to everyone who was still around, and headed out.

It was bitter cold out – it was like a punch to my face when Leroy opened the stage door to let me through. Surprisingly, it didn't keep the people away. I signed a few programs before I heard my name being called. I looked up just as Emily halted in front of me. Her cheeks were flushed and a little pink from the cold. She had on the purple hat I got her for Christmas. Her hair was drooping on each side of it in pigtails. As I knelt to give her a hug, I saw Nathan approaching behind her.

"So was it better than last year?" I asked Emily, tugging at one of her pigtails.

"I don't remember much of last year. I was younger," she replied, and she sounded so serious as if she was much older at nearly seven years of age. Then she gave me this expectant look. "Do you think Alicia will agree to sign my program?"

Alicia danced Fairy Sugar Plum tonight, the solo Emily had hoped so many months ago I would get. But she was here with a bad cold, and I doubted she'd linger at the stage door tonight. It seemed pointless to wait. "I'll tell you what. Let me keep your program for a couple of days, and I'll get it signed for you. Not just by Alicia."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Sure."

"Will you sign it too?"

"If you want me to."

"Please?" she pouted as she stretched the last sound of the word.

"Well, okay," I conceded and dropped a kiss on her nose. Then I stood up to join Nathan, who watched our exchanged with this bemused expression I'd come to know so well. Our eyes met, and I felt my lips curl in this timid smile. It was the first time we met after what happened, and despite our mutual decision to leave it behind us, awkwardness seemed to linger there invisibly between us nonetheless. "Hey."

His eyes were full of admiration and awe I couldn't explain. "You were marvelous," he said, in that impossible accent of his.

I rolled my eyes even though I could feel that hateful blush creep onto my cheek, settling just below my ears. "Please. I bet you couldn't even tell me apart from the others."

"Yes, we could," Emily intervened, "And you looked very pretty."

He shook his head in mock-dismay. "You can never get compliments, can you?"

"They're just as bad as gifts," I scowled.

"Alright, then, in that case, you were horrific and you can't dance at all."

"That's better, actually," I giggled.

"Well, now that we solved that problem, perhaps we could solve one of mine."

"Oh?"

"Does it seem fair to you that Emily gets a kiss for flattery and I get a scowl?" he asked in this businesslike manner that made me laugh.

"Do you want me to kiss you too so you'll feel better about publically embarrassing me?"

His only reply was this challenging look. I smirked and leaned forward. His eyes widened ever so slightly, as if he wasn't expecting me to actually go with it, especially after what happened on Christmas Eve. His cheek was as cold as the air. I pressed my lips to his skin very briefly, meaning to complain at the temperature of it, but when I pulled away, I suddenly froze. I thought I saw something at the corner of my eye, in the shadows, but was impossible. He wasn't due here in a few days.

Slowly, I looked up again, and squinted into the darkness. My heart skipped a beat. For a second, my breathing stopped altogether. It really was Edward, somehow here already, much earlier than he should be. I could feel my face light up, only to become tense with alarm a second later when I caught up with his expression – condemning, appalled. I realized to my horror what he'd just witnessed – or thought he'd just witnessed. In this one second our eyes were locked on one another, I felt this rush of panic sweeping me off my feet. I couldn't look away. He wouldn't let me look away.

Nathan called my name. The sound shook me out of my frantic trance. I turned to face him in a daze, tearing my eyes from Edward's in the process. All I could register was the concern on Nathan's face, somehow with my mind still racing. He touched my arm. I pulled it away abruptly as my gaze shot over his shoulder, knowing what I was going to find. Edward was frozen in place, his hands in his coat pockets and his posture stiff. His face was a combination of shock and fury. His eyes were so cold he almost didn't look like himself. He kept them on me until looking straight at him became unbearable.

And then it was as if someone had ripped my heart right out of my chest as I watched him walk away.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty Two – Edward**

By the time the plane finally landed in Heathrow, I was a nervous wreck. Nothing mattered more than getting to the Tube, riding to the theatre, finding her. The airport was a nightmare, with huge queues everywhere. I took it all silently, with the little patience I'd still had left. It took me nearly an hour just to get my passport signed. When I finally rushed through the luggage area, I was willing to shoot someone if from some reason I wouldn't be able to find my suitcase.

Because it was still close to Christmas, I couldn't get tickets for tonight's performance. I headed straight to the theatre anyway, double checking before switching trains on the Tube. I didn't want to risk getting to Wimbledon or whatnot. Getting from the airport to her place was a much shorter ride, but I didn't feel like waiting outside the apartment until she was back. I didn't want anything to delay my seeing her. Misery, suspicion, anger, they were all gone. I wanted nothing but holding her.

Since I was coming for a longer visit, my suitcase was heavier. By the time I got to the street where the theatre resided, I was wheezing. When I saw the building, I heaved a sigh of relief. It was unbelievably cold, but I hadn't felt it until I stopped. It was whipping at my face now. I did my best to ignore my chattering teeth as I circled the theatre to make sure the stage door was where I'd remembered it to be. Thankfully, it was. Since there was about an hour left until the end of the performance, it was currently deserted. There was light coming from the inside of the theatre through the glass door. For a moment, I thought I'd just camp there, but it was too cold.

There was a café right across the street, and I wheeled my suitcase there. The change of temperature was comforting; at least I wouldn't freeze to death while waiting. I ordered some coffee and a sandwich, and found a seat close to the glass doors, but far enough so that the cold wouldn't bother me whenever people went in and out. I leaned back in my seat, and closed my eyes, allowing myself a weary and yet contented sigh. I made it.

I checked my watch every ten seconds or so, and groaned inwardly at my impatience. I lasted all this time without seeing her, but this last hour seemed more crucial, somehow. I tried to focus on eating, but my stomach twisted and churned with excitement. The coffee was good, and I could feel its warmth spreading through me. I sat there trying to imagine what she was doing just now. I hoped the cold would keep the crowd away from the stage door. I knew it was part of her job, but I didn't feel like sharing her with the rest of them. Wasn't it enough they had got her for the year?

I had a book with me, a new thriller I'd borrowed from Jasper for the flight, and even though it was fascinating, I couldn't focus. I was too wired to pay attention. The letters swam in front of my eyes in sequences that didn't make sense. At some point I realized I was staring at the same page for nearly fifteen minutes. I shut the book and stuffed it back in my bag.

When the time had finally come, I forced myself to sit there a little longer. I watched people as they left the theatre. Three, nine, eighteen, twenty five. My breathing was shallow, frenzied. Just a little longer, I thought.

The chill hit me when I stepped into the street again. I headed straight to the stage door. I was in such a hurry I nearly bumped into a little redheaded girl in a purple coat and a matching hat. I halted just in time, and murmured an apology as I let her through. She didn't even mind me. Her father ordered her to hold his hand, and they headed in the same direction I had. She towed him close to the door, all the while telling him things I couldn't make out. I watched them wondering if it really was an hour to take a kid to the theatre, but I didn't linger on it. Pretty soon I forgot all about them, and set my eyes on the door.

I stuck to the shadows again, secretly wanting to catch her speechless like that last time. A very small crowd gathered by the door. Every now and again, the door would open, and an occasional cheer would rise among the waiting audience as a dancer they recognized stepped into the cold. A woman next to me knew everyone's names, and I thought that if I'd happen to look away just when Bella stepped out, at least I'd be well-informed by this stranger. I wondered why she wasn't standing closer, like the real fan she seemed to be.

They came out in twos, threes and fours, all of them stopping to sign people's programs despite the bitter cold. They didn't seem bothered by it. They all looked refreshed, glowing, high on adrenaline, probably. I recognized Ivan, Bella's friend, as he chatted with an old woman in brown fur coat. I instinctively shrank further into the shadows, not wishing to be discovered by him. Their friend Jenna was further down the queue from him, hugging someone taller than her. I held my breath, and felt my heart exhilarating. If they were out, wasn't she supposed to –

But the thought died out as soon as the door opened once again. She was nothing but a silhouette, but my heart stilled at the sight of her just the same. Someone held the door open for her. She went through, and froze on the threshold, as if she wasn't expecting to find anyone there. She had on her grey coat, and a cream-colored scarf that was wrapped so tightly around her that her chin was tucked in it. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders, bouncing with every step she took. I didn't have to stand closer to see the pink in her cheeks, the glimmer in her eyes.

My legs' reaction was instinctive; I found myself moving forward without really meaning to. Her name was halfway up my throat, when I heard it being called, in a different, childish voice.

I froze. The little girl I'd seen earlier had just flung herself at Bella, who didn't seem surprised. She sort of looked as if she'd expected it. The man, the girl's father, was approaching them as well. I could do nothing but stare at the three of them in puzzlement. Their attention was only set on Bella, not on any of her colleagues. It was almost as if they'd been waiting only for her. But who were they? She'd never mentioned –

_I babysat a friend's daughter…_ _dances at my studio… I coach her sometimes…_

The small voice at the back of my mind was prodding my memory. For a moment I couldn't understand the connection, but one more look at them was all it took, and it clicked.

I wanted to move forward, but at the same time I didn't. I needed to see more. I thought that if I did, I'd be able to make sense of it. She hugged the little girl, and laughed at something she said. She tugged on one of her pigtails and kissed her nose. All the while the man was standing there watching them in a poise that radiated self-importance. My hands, stuck in my coat pockets, clenched into tight fists. Dislike was instinctive, irrational. I knew nothing of this man, but I loathed him all the same.

I watched her as she turned to face him. She smiled at him, that coy smile that was always accompanied with faint blush. My entire body tensed as I watched their exchange. It frustrated me, not being able to hear it, but I knew it was for the best. I scrutinized him with growing apprehension. He looked older than her. He was dressed in dull brown, like the color of the coat he'd once lend her. I didn't think he was aware of the way he leaned towards her ever so slightly as she spoke.

Quite fretfully, I shifted my gaze from him to Bella. It was impossible not to notice how comfortable she looked around the two of them, and how animated. She looked so terrified to stand among her fans, until she saw these two. The change was astounding. She forgot everyone else while speaking to them. It was unnerving, in a twisted, possessive sort of way. I didn't want her to set any unnecessary roots here. I didn't want her to have reasons to want to stay here longer than she should.

"What a lovely family," a woman on my left told her friend. Their eyes, like mine, were set on Bella and her companions. My eyes widened in horror when the meaning of her statement quickly sank in. How could they mistake Bella for this child's mother, this man's wife?

And then it dawned on me that for someone who hadn't known better, this was exactly what they'd look like.

Envy was sharp and precise, and completely absurd. There was no reason to let a stranger's statement infuriate me to such an extent, to act so possessive just because I saw my girlfriend speaking to a man I didn't know. Surely there was nothing to it. There was a logical explanation, there had to be. She mentioned they were friends. If she knew I was there, she wouldn't stall so much around them. I just needed to make my presence known.

I stepped forward, but halted as soon as I was out of the shadows. For one moment, the world ceased to exist. I stopped breathing. I couldn't do much but stand there and stare at her as she leaned forward and kissed him.

I didn't feel the cold anymore. I was livid with fury, and with other emotions that followed suit. Horror, disgust, hatred. Some of them were so unfamiliar to me I couldn't even name them. They all tried to pull me under, threatened to suffocate me. I had no air. I couldn't stay there one moment longer. I needed to get out of there, now. I needed to go someplace, wherever, as long as it was far away from here.

Unfortunately, this was when she looked up and found me there. The glee in her gaze was almost blinding, but it didn't linger. As if it had just dawned on her I'd just witnessed her shame, joy shifted into something much darker, like guilt, or remorse.

I didn't stick around to make sense of it.

"Edward!" Her voice called after me as soon as I turned my back to leave. I didn't stop. I took my previous thought back. I _wanted_ more people there. I wanted a chance to be swallowed in the crowd so that she wouldn't reach me so easily. I kept walking, shutting myself out to everything else except for this task. The damn suitcase I still carried was making my progress excruciatingly slower.

"Edward, wait!" She was persistent, and closer than I'd estimated. She got a hold on my arm; I shoved her away as I finally turned to face her. Her eyes were wide, as if shocked by my rejection. Her cheeks were flushed; her breathing came out in short pants, but whether from exertion or panic, I couldn't say.

"What do you want?"

"Edward, please. It's not – "

"I don't want to hear this," I cut her off. I was fed up with futile explanations. I didn't have the patience to listen to another one just now. A part of me wanted to shove her completely out of my way, but I wasn't strong enough to do even that.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the man still standing there, trying to convince his daughter to go the other way. He threw a worried look in our direction when they finally left. I narrowed my eyes at him in the meanest glare I could muster. Then I aimed the same look at her.

"Don't you want to leave with your friends? Or say goodbye, at least?"

"Stop it." The sharpness in her voice caught me off-guard for a moment. "Let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain."

"Please?"

"What could you possibly say to make what I just saw look better?"

She didn't reply right away, as if she hesitated. Then she looked over her shoulder, and back at me. "I don't want to do this here."

_Now_ she was worried about people noticing. I didn't intend to go anywhere with her. If I did, I'd do something I regretted. But then I made the mistake of meeting her eyes. They were huge, glistening – as if with tears – and imploring.

"Fine," I mumbled, my voice thick with reluctance, all the while scolding myself for being so feeble.

I followed her home. Home; what a laugh. I didn't even know why I gave up, why I submitted myself to more misery. Whatever she had to say wasn't going to make things better. The damage had already been done. To think I'd done all this effort, all this journey, just to witness something like that. I should have left when I had the chance, find a cheap hotel someplace and go back to New York in the morning. I shouldn't have listened to her.

The train ride back to her place was miles different than the one in September. We sat across from one another, like two strangers. She searched my eyes in more than one occasion. I turned my face stubbornly away from her. I watched her when she wasn't looking. She sat with her hands in her lap, fiddling with the hem of her coat, a motion I'd come to know as anxiety. She didn't cry, or tremble. She didn't even look guilty, which infuriated me the most. As I saw it, she should have been consumed by guilt. _She_ was kissing _him_. I witnessed it. My near-kiss was Claire paled in comparison. My palms clenched into fists again. It felt as if I was going to explode.

The silence continued when we walked into the street again. The street was quiet apart for the screeching noise the wheels of my suitcase made against the concrete. It sounded too loud. Her steps were noiseless, confident. She clearly felt at home here, another fact I resented. I'd known my way from here, despite my short stay the last time. I knew we were close, and I willed myself to calm down. I wouldn't explode. I'd let her explain. I wouldn't tell her what I thought until I got a confirmation out of her first. I wouldn't fall for soft touches and sweet words, frenzied lies and empty promises. Not again.

The staircase seemed to be lasting forever, but finally we got upstairs. She unlocked the door, stepped in, clicked on a lamp. I walked in and slowly shut the door. Across the room from me, she took off her coat and scarf and slowly lay them against the back of the sofa.

"Don't you want to take your coat off?" she asked, and there was this fretting edge to the question.

"No." My reply was more abrupt than I'd intended. I watched her wince, but didn't apologize.

She sighed, and approached me. She stepped close enough to wrap her arms around me, but didn't, as if she feared I'd shove her back. "Edward." My name escaped her lips in a quivering whisper. "What has just happened… I mean, what you saw…" She stopped, took a deep breath, and brought her eyes up to meet mine. "It's not what it looks like."

"It's not what it looks like?" I echoed incredulously. I couldn't believe she had the nerve to look me straight in the eye while saying that. While _lying_ to me. Any decision I'd made on the way here had just flown out of the window. I hated this, being manipulated by her, blind by my love to her. All this time I'd been playing along. She wanted a chance to find her way before committing herself to me, and I'd given her that chance, no matter the misery I'd had to endure. Okay, so maybe it sounded more domineering it actually was, but the bottom line was that she chose her career over me, over _us_, and deep down I resented her for it from the first second she'd dropped that bomb on me. She said moving here would be good for us, and I'd been a fool to believe her. Now I couldn't help but wonder if there was ever anything to her promises at all.

I didn't feel like being gullible anymore. I was getting tired of these games. I wanted to fight back now. I wanted her to suffer the consequences of her decision on our relationship, or – as things currently stood, what was left of it. "Is that the best you can come up with? What about _it's not what you think_? Just save yourself the trouble and tell me straight, what _should_ I be thinking? Oh, no, I know. He's just a _friend_, right?"

She didn't look stunned or frightened anymore. Now she looked furious. I'd never seen her eyes so dark before. It only encouraged me forward.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? Sure, it's easier to hide something like that on the phone. You haven't actually planned on getting caught, have you? And why would you? You probably had it all planned out. Did you tell him I was coming over next week so you could remove the evidence? I'm sorry I ruined your plans by showing up here a few days too early."

The venom in my voice caught me off-guard, but I didn't let it deter me. I was beyond envious. My anger was blinding.

"Does his wife know he gets a kick out of flirting with ballet dancers? That he uses his daughter to draw sympathy? Really, he couldn't get more cliché than that, messing around with his daughter's babysitter."

She was very pale now, and very still, like a statue. There was livid fire in her eyes, still meeting mine without flinching. "Are you through?" she asked, and there was this unfamiliar roughness in her tone. It was as icy as her glare. "If you don't know me well enough to know I would never come between two people like that, if you don't trust me enough to know I would never do something like that to _you_, then fine. But you have _no right_ to say things like that about someone you don't even know."

"If there's something going on between you and that man, I have _every_ right – " My own rising tone scared me a little, making my voice trail, but she cut me off before I could even continue.

"As far as I remember, I don't have a sign around my neck or a brand on my arm that marks me as your property. I don't remember saying 'I do' by the altar," she narrowed her eyes at that; I tried not to flinch. "You don't own me, and if I want to kiss someone from whichever reason, I will!"

I braced myself against the admonishment in her voice, higher now, as if to match my own. At this point I couldn't stop the words from coming; nor did I want to. "Is this why you came here, then? You wanted to make sure you weren't missing on anything? New York wasn't big enough for that, you needed a European selection?"

For a second, she was speechless. Then, a moment later, she composed herself and narrowed her eyes again. "You are such a hypocrite. Why are we dwelling on _my_ secret romance? Why don't we speak about yours?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about a neighbor of ours I heard you're close and tight with."

The blood drained from my face. "H-how do you know about that?" I stammered, feeling as if she punched me. My memory was fuzzy, swimming in anger. I hadn't introduced Claire to any of my friends. I hadn't even told Emmett about her. How could she possibly –

She seemed to revel at my sudden lack of confidence. "Not so aggressive anymore, are you?" she asked dryly, looking at me with so much scorn as if she knew every single detail about my acquaintance with Claire. As if she knew all about that kiss. "It doesn't matter how I know," she answered my previous question. "You just gave me all the answers I needed."

"It's not – "

"It's not what I think? I really hope you're not going to use _that_ line after having just mocked me for trying to use it."

I hung my head, overpowered by defeat. "That's different."

"Why is it different? Because you're the guy and it means you can sleep around whenever you want with whomever you want?"

"I didn't sleep with her!"

"Well, I can't know that, can I? Just like you can't know if there's something going on between me and that man you saw. It's your word against mine."

The sudden silence was thick, unnerving. My ears were still ringing. We'd never had an argument so loud before. We just stood there now, glaring at each other like two rival children. A shudder went through me. _Rivals_. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought we would come to this.

"I wish you never came here," I muttered. The lower tone was strange to me after the higher notes this confrontation had gone to.

Her face was blank now, nearly expressionless. "No, I'm glad I did. At least now I know the other path was a mistake. I'm glad I didn't take that ring. I'm glad I didn't say I'd marry you."

That hurt. There was a flicker of emotion that betrayed her cold expression, as if it hurt her too. It hurt even more because her promise still lingered at the back of my mind. _I _will_ marry you… I just need to find my way first_. I realized now I'd been unconsciously holding on to it. In the shadow of her absence, this promise remained the only thing that mattered. And it made no difference whether she meant it or not now. It was impossible to take back once it was out, and we both knew it. I struggled to hold her gaze. "If this is how you feel, maybe you shouldn't bother to come back in July."

She accepted the insult calmly. "Maybe I won't. Because what do I have in New York that I don't have here? An apartment I don't own? At least here I have a job to go with it."

"Nothing ties you to New York, then." I didn't even believe it now. I just didn't want her to have the last word.

There was no anger in her eyes now, just endless sadness. "I used to think _you_ did."

"Well, I'm sorry to prove you wrong," I said quietly. I couldn't stay here. I couldn't be in the same room with her. I was glad I didn't take my coat off. It saved me time now. The sooner I'd get out, the better; I wouldn't have time for second thoughts. I reached for my suitcase and turned to the door with no further words.

Like she'd done at the theatre, she called after me, her voice breaking as she pleaded with me to wait, but my mind was already set on leaving. She didn't come after me this time, as if she knew it wasn't going to help. I descended the stairs without looking back even though I knew she was watching me, waiting for me to cave. But I wouldn't. I had no intention of repeating my earlier mistake. I allowed myself a final look at her window when I crossed the street. I thought I saw her standing there, a shadow behind the curtains, but I didn't look long enough to make certain. I'd had enough.

xoxox

From then on, it was all a blur. I spent the night at the airport, because the only available seat was on a flight that didn't leave until the midday of the next day. I dozed off leaning against my backpack on one of the airport's plastic chairs, hating every second of it. It was barely seven in the morning when I got myself some breakfast as soon as one of the restaurants opened. It felt like so much later for me. My breakfast looked good, but I hardly tasted any of it. Eating was a necessity, nothing more. I made a stop at the bathroom to freshen up, avoiding my reflection all the while. I knew I looked horrific. My clothes were wrinkled and I needed a shave badly, but I couldn't care less. I just wanted my flight to leave already so I could get away from here.

Our fight was nothing but a hazy memory in my jumbled state of mind, but it was all for the better. I didn't want to be reminded of it. I didn't want to think back of the things I'd told her, or those she'd told me. Whether we meant them or not, every word stung. The future felt non-existent, like a black hole. Now what? Were we officially broken up? Was that what I wanted?

I sighed. I didn't know what I wanted. The only thing I did know was how badly I wanted to return home. I was already set on hiding once I got there. I couldn't bare the humiliation of letting everyone know I was back as soon as I'd left. Just thinking about my parents' reaction, Emmett's, Alice's… I winced just imagining it. They would all think heading back was a stupid move on my side, an impulsive whim. They would never understand. I knew they were bound to learn the truth sooner or later; if I wouldn't say anything, one of them would speak to her eventually. As far as I was concerned, later was as good as any time.

Finally, it was time to board the plane. I crushed into my seat gratefully. It was on the very last row, but I didn't care. At least they found me one. I shuddered at the very thought of spending another night on those hideous plastic chairs at the airport. I recognized some of the flight attendants from the day before, which only made me feel more pathetic. I thought how different things were from the time I boarded the flight in. Expectation, giddiness, impatience – now there was none of it.

I spent most of the time sleeping, thankfully. When I wasn't, I just stared emptily out of the window, trying to think when it had all gone wrong. Second thoughts were overpowering. Maybe my reaction was too hasty. Maybe I shouldn't have left so fast. Maybe I should have waited it out until I was calmer, and tried to speak to her again. Maybe this way it would have made things better.

But this way I was fooling myself as well. Nothing could make things any better. Everything was over. Bella and I were over.

Now, there was a concept I'd never thought I'd have to handle.

By the time we finally landed in New York, I was on the verge of exhaustion. There was nothing I wanted more than getting home, taking a shower and crawling into bed. If I were lucky, I'd manage to successfully resurface by the time I was supposed to go back from London, and no one would ever know the difference. My taxi driver was a chatty one. He insisted on telling me everything his three-year-old grandson had done on Christmas Eve. His fast speech and screeching Italian accent got straight through me, adding a headache to the rest of my troubles as well. The way home felt twice as long. I heaved a sigh of relief when we were finally there.

I was dead on my feet, but I turned to the stairs out of habit. I was so out of it I forgot there was an elevator I could use. I dragged my suitcase behind me with my remaining strength. Every step was slower, heavier than the other. I stopped on the third floor to catch my breath.

It took me a moment to realize I was a short distance from Claire's door. There was faint sound coming from the inside, of a television or music, but unintelligible through the door. She was back from Chicago, then. I remembered the card she'd slipped beneath my door on Christmas, pleading with me to come and talk to her. I was so tired it ached, but at the same time I was also desperate to speak to someone, to let all that anger out. And she _was_ a good listener.

I stepped closer almost without realizing it. It felt as if I would collapse if I stayed on my feet for much longer. I held back a yawn, and knocked on the door before I could think better of it.

* * *

**A/N: more angst, sorry 'bout that. If it's comforting in any way, I promise this story has a happy ending. Thank you so much for your reviews on the previous chapter, everyone, please keep them up. Until next time xoxo**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty Three – Bella**

The next few days passed in a hazy, delusional fog. I wasn't aware of anything, apart for the need to be at the theatre on time, know all my steps and cues and entrances. Dancing was nothing but an obligation, just a job to do. it had become methodical, void of emotion. Sleeping, eating, existence – they all became secondary, unimportant. I shut myself out to everything. In a very distant corner in my subconscious I knew it was wrong, but I wasn't strong enough to pull myself together. It was worse than any quarrel we'd had in the past, worse than that first mishap with Alice, or a few months ago when he shut me out. My world was falling into pieces, and I had no idea how to mend it, or even if I was able to. Helplessness was overpowering.

The memory was impossible to shake off. Like a nightmare or a bad movie, I wanted to put it behind me, but found myself unable to. I wasn't sure how this argument had gone so nasty, or when, or why. I didn't mean half the things I told him; I wasn't even sure what was it in me that pushed me to say them. But at the time, I couldn't stop myself from saying them. I was so angry – angry with his inability to trust me – and so frustrated I couldn't get to him and make him see things as they were; I just said the first things on his mind, the things I knew would hurt him the most. I hadn't considered those same things could hurt _me_, as well. I'd give anything to take it all back now.

I worried about him. I wasn't sure if he returned home, or if he was still in London. In the first few days, a part of me still expected to find him at the stage door at the end of each working day, or waiting on my doorstep when I got home. When a week passed, then ten days, and two weeks, and there was no sign of him, I gave up hoping altogether. He was gone, and he took everything with him.

I remembered how scared I'd been about things getting busy at work, but I embraced it all now. I didn't even need an excuse to shut everyone out; I didn't need a reason to avoid calling home. I didn't want to speak to anyone who might remind me of him, and now I didn't have to. I threw myself into my new routine, working twice as hard. I wasn't sure whom I was trying to prove something to, probably myself, but I was determined to do so all the same. I wouldn't let this break apart everything I'd worked so hard to achieve in the past few months. Despite what he was trying to insinuate, I did belong here. And right now, there was no other place I'd rather be in.

"Bella?"

I blinked, realizing I'd been staring aimlessly at my reflection for the past ten minutes or so. The tissue I still held was smeared with makeup I didn't remember getting off. I let it fall on the table as my eyes met Jenna's through the mirror. She was standing at the doorway, ready to go with both her coat and hat on, and her bag slung over her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" The question was slow and careful, but it was also somewhat rhetorical because she knew I was not. "I've just spoken to Ivan, and he says you're having dinner with us tonight."

It wasn't a question. I groaned inwardly, and dropped my gaze. I busied myself in sealing the pack of Baby Wipes before all of them would dry off. "I'm going home, Jenna."

I didn't realize she walked into the room until she knelt next to my chair. "He told me to get him in case this will be your answer. I think it's better we handle this between us," she grinned.

I didn't reply or return her grin. I just sat there and watched our reflections side by side – her lively one, my miserable, hopeless one. I had nowhere to hide with my makeup off. I looked a mess. If I could notice it, I knew she – and anyone else – would, too.

"I'm not hungry," I grumbled, a final, feeble attempt to exclude myself from my friends' plans.

"You will be once we get there," she insisted, squeezing my shoulder a little. "It's going to be so much worse at home, you know," she added softly. "You need to go out, mate."

I nodded, and bit my lip against the tears I could feel at the back of my throat. Defeat, more than sadness. I wished they would just leave me alone, but at the same time I didn't. I needed them desperately. I needed something to prove me I wasn't completely helpless without him, that I was still myself, and that I could go on alone. This was why I'd come here in the first place, trying to rescue _me_ from _us_. All this time I fretted for _us_ that I forgot all about this initial mission.

Now there was no _us_, and I realized my plan was never going to work. There was never much of a _me_ to begin with. I'd lost her too long ago to be able to recover her now. She was too wrapped up in him, in the _us_ we'd made together. With him gone, _me_ was never going to resurface.

xoxox

Thankfully, Ivan didn't make a scene about me caving and joining them for dinner. He talked literally all the way from the theatre to the burger restaurant in Soho, one that was probably packed beyond belief on weekends. Jenna ordered me an Oreo milkshake before I had a chance to repeat my earlier statement. Ivan let me choose between three dishes before he ordered for me as well. He didn't say anything, but he was clearly determined not to let me starve myself to death.

Our drinks arrived first. Jenna's milkshake was the same flavor as my own, as she claimed it was the best, but Ivan said his strawberry milkshake was clearly far superior to ours, and that we had to try it. I cracked a smile at his attempt to make me laugh, but it was mostly for his sake. Inside, I still felt like crying. I knew both of them noticed – I'd never been quite an actress – but they said nothing about it.

We chatted about one of our colleagues who left in the middle of the matinee after twisting her ankle quite badly. I mostly listened, and commented every now and again with monosyllables just so they'd think I was paying attention. I knew better than becoming the victim of Ivan's scolding.

"So, love, are you excited about your six months review?"

He meant the meeting I'd been scheduled to have with Philippa Logan the following week. Under other circumstances such an appointment would get me dizzy with anxiety. I would have spent sleepless nights dreading her not liking me and wishing to kick me out. I would have been a nervous wreck. Under _normal_ circumstances, all that was bound to happen. As things were, I couldn't care less about my six months review. "Should I be excited?"

Neither Ivan nor Jenna commented about how apathetic my voice sounded, but I knew they could both hear it, since I could. Instead, Ivan smiled at me, as if he noticed nothing. "I can't believe you've been here for six months! Time flies, eh?"

I nodded absentmindedly, trying to ignore the voices inside my head.

_"I wish you never came here_."

_"No, I'm glad I did. At least now I know the other path was a mistake. I'm glad I didn't take that ring. I'm glad I didn't say I'd marry you."_

"I love this place," Jenna's voice pulled me back into the background noise of the restaurant. An old Madonna song was playing. It was one of my favorites. Now I couldn't muster enough energy to care. Jenna placed her milkshake glass on the table and elbowed Ivan, who was busy lip-synching along with the song. "We should come here more often."

"We _should_, they have the best waiters, too," Ivan replied, but he hardly paid attention to her as he eyed a passing waiter lustfully. I glimpsed at him too, and looked away. This time, as if he couldn't stay indifferent anymore, Ivan let out a deep sigh. "Honey… I know it's hard, but you need to get over it. By the time you get back together you'll look so horrific; he wouldn't want you."

His optimism irritated me. I scowled. "Who says we're getting back together?"

"You _will_. But just to cover my bases, perhaps I should give him a call and – "

"Oh, be my guest, Ivan. You can have him if you want."

"You don't really mean that, Bella," said Jenna, although I could see a part of her feared that I might.

"No, I don't," I admitted, with certain defeat. There was no way in the world I'd be able to do this. I loved him too much to just shut him out so completely. I wouldn't be able to do this no matter how hard I tried. I sighed, leaning my arms on the table, and my head on them. Over my head, they continued to argue in hissed whispers.

"Now look what you've done."

"What, I was joking, she knows I was!"

"That's not the point, Ivan, sometimes I really wish you'll keep your mouth shut!"

"Bella?"

I looked up with a start at the sound of a third voice, a familiar one. His presence was like a punch to my stomach. He brought it all back double forced. "Nathan."

There he was, as unkempt as ever in flannel and corduroy. His eyes widened ever so slightly as he caught sight of my face. It didn't take him long to register the dark circles beneath my eyes. At least they weren't bloodshot and swollen, like they'd normally be if I were home. At least I spared him the trails of tears I'd woken up with each day.

"What are you doing here?"

"I had a meeting, and we decided to come here to continue it over dinner." He turned over his shoulder, where a man was sitting by a side table, reading a document out of a pile of binders he had next to him. He asked Ivan and Jenna how they were doing, and the three of them chatted for a little bit before he brought his attention back to me. I shrank beneath his penetrating gaze. "You're not answering your phone," he told me. It wasn't reproach, just statement of facts. I felt like hanging my head in admittance, but his eyes wouldn't release me. "I was getting worried."

"Well, don't. I'm fine."

Ivan snorted, but there was nothing amusing about the sound. "Like hell you are."

Nathan's face didn't change as he took in Ivan's comment. His eyes were still on me. "Did he – "

His voice trailed off as I shook my head. "He didn't stay. He left that night."

He winced as if I stabbed him. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't. It wasn't just that. There were other things too."

I was aware of Ivan and Jenna's presence, but I didn't mind it. They'd known everything anyway. They were so involved in it all that I didn't feel awkward about them listening to our conversation now. I flinched at the memory of my own words as they hit me once more. _I'm glad I didn't say I'd marry you_. Their brutality overwhelmed me now. I shook my head, sending them away. I forced a smile on, but even this small motion came with enormous effort. "How's Emily?"

"Emily is fine. She's asking about you a lot though."

Regardless of what things had come to with Edward, I was still beating myself up over kissing Nathan with Emily not three steps away from me. I didn't know what I'd been thinking, really. The memory of everything before the fight was vague. I guess I was too high on adrenaline to be reasonable. It wasn't the most brilliant move on my side, from so many reasons. And after everything that happened that night, I hadn't considered Emily's reaction while I was screening her father's calls. It must have been a tough week for him as well, trying to come up with satisfying excuses as for where I'd gone to. I shook my head. "I'm sorry if I got you in trouble."

"Don't apologize. Get better."

"I will." It was the first time I actually meant it, although I wasn't sure about the particulars just yet.

"I have to get back," he said then, glancing over his shoulder again. On his left, a waiter was just coming over with our orders somehow all balanced on one arm. "I'll call to check on you tomorrow."

I watched him as he joined his colleague at the table while Ivan was flirting with our waiter. Jenna began to scold him as soon as he was gone, and the atmosphere around our small table lightened considerably. I tried to take an active part in the conversation this time, determined to follow the promise I'd just given Nathan. I had no idea how, but I _would_ get better. It was the only thing I knew for certain.

xoxox

Nathan called the next day, just like he promised. It was awkward at first, because I was struggling not to fall apart. He was so sweet and patient with me, although considering what he'd probably been through with Emily because of me, I probably didn't deserve any of it. Everyone had been so nice to me, him included; the last thing I wanted was to appear ungrateful.

"What if… it was a sort of a sign?"

The hesitation in his voice made me tense. "What do you mean?"

"Perhaps someone is trying to tell you… that he's not right for you."

It took exactly a second for me to absorb this. "Well, that's too bad. There's no one else I want."

"Bella, you haven't stopped fighting ever since you got here." His voice was gentle, as if he didn't want to hurt me with the plain facts, but I knew disapproval when I heard it.

"Let me ask you a question. I think I already know the answer, but humor me. You told me that your mother kept telling you how Claire was a bad influence on you, and how she ruined your life when she left you alone with Emily. If she was back, can you honestly tell me you wouldn't take her in despite everything that happened?"

The silence on the other end was all the confirmation I needed.

"This is how it is, for me."

"We're quite a messed up pair, aren't we?"

I laughed humorlessly. "That's what makes us so special."

"It's going to be okay, Bella."

I wanted to believe him, badly. Because what else I'd left to hang my hopes on?

xoxox

I'd been acting nonchalant about my meeting with Philippa Logan, but on the morning of the meeting I wondered if there _was_ something to fret about. My stomach twisted and turned, and I could barely touch the coffee I got myself. I skipped breakfast altogether, fearing it would make me feel worse. It felt silly to be so scared all of a sudden. She wouldn't send me back to New York now, six months into my stay, would she? _Could_ she? I shuddered at the thought.

Going back was hardly appealing now. It felt as if nothing had waited for me in New York. Well, apart for my friends, maybe, but Anya was working nearly around the clock, and Alice had just gone on the road for her first national tour, and wasn't due back until next month. I could always go back to live with Charlie, I told myself when I reached Philippa's door at the House. If worse came to worse, I could always open my own ballet studio in Forks.

I walked into the office after hearing the faint request to do so. Philippa looked up from her laptop. Her reading glasses hung low on the bridge of her nose as our eyes met. Her hair – reddish brown – was tied backwards in its usual French twist. She had an emerald-colored shawl draped over her shoulders, revealing only patches of the black blouse she wore underneath it. As always, she radiated royalty. It almost felt as if I was supposed to sweep her a courtesy on my way in.

"Bella. Good morning. Please come in and have a seat. Can I offer you a cup of tea?"

"No. Thank you." My stomach still didn't feel right. I took a seat as she flipped the cover of her laptop close, and took off her glasses.

"I'm sorry we had to schedule this meeting for so early in the morning. I know you have a busy day, doing double shows, but you're due at the theatre in a few hours, and I didn't want to postpone this meeting until the end of the run."

"That's fine." I wasn't going to sleep in anyway. It was fortunate I got any sleep last night at all.

"Well, I won't be keeping you longer than I should. I'm sure you were told the meaning and purpose of this session. You've been with us for six months now, and it's time for you to get some feedback from your peers, from Vlad, from Cecilia and myself."

I nodded. I knew all that.

"Why don't you tell me first how you feel."

For a moment I sat there in helpless silence. It was a tricky question, and even trickier to have me answer before I knew what she was going to tell me. If I appeared overly enthusiastic and it turned out she meant to kick me out… humiliation, to say the least.

I guessed she decided I needed a little help. She flashed an encouraging smile at me. "Do you have any difficulties, socially? Professionally? Something you wish to say?"

I thought that if I had any of those, six months was awfully a lot of time to keep it in. "No, no difficulties," I replied, my voice trembling with no apparent reason. "I'm having a great time," I finally admitted, nearly holding my breath for her reply.

"Yes. And you're doing very well, too." She was addressing me, but at the same time she wasn't. "I've spoken to Vlad and he's very pleased with the way you've been handling the pressure of the holiday season."

I felt like snorting. Clearly he wasn't around when I broke down after seeing our schedule.

"We don't often do this in the first year, but we decided it's time to promote you at least one level up."

I just gaped at her. She didn't actually say what I thought she had, did she?

At the sight of my expression, she laughed softly. "It seems unfair to keep you in the background when you've got so much to give. It's our way of rewarding those who are worthy of our appreciation. It's also in hope that when the time comes, you'll consider an extension of your contract."

If I wasn't sitting down, my knees would have given away by now. "S-staying here?" I stammered. My heart pounded so violently it was almost embarrassing.

"It's too early to have this discussion, of course, but yes. Considering your talent and achievements so far, I think it's safe to say we'll be sorry to part with you this summer."

I didn't need to be a genius to understand what she was implying. It was rather stupid of me not to think ahead when I signed up for this year. I didn't think beyond the time I'd committed to. I'd been so laid-back about it. I thought London would be easy to part with. I thought of it as just a job. I hadn't considered getting attached to people, to the job itself. I didn't think I'd make friends here. It had become my home without realizing it.

"I'm not asking you to decide right away." Philippa's voice startled me. I realized I hadn't said anything. "I understand it's something you have to think very carefully about. It's not a decision you can make on the spot. I just wanted you to be aware of the possibility. We will love to keep you with us."

This subtle compliment was making me emotional, but I struggled not to let it show. I forced myself to compose myself before I replied. "I'm flattered, whatever my decision is going to be. I can't thank you enough." I was ashamed of the tremor in my voice, one that still lingered despite my attempts to hide it.

"You should thank yourself, dear. It's your talent that brought you here."

"Is there a deadline I need to – "

"Not one that should worry you in the near future. Focus on doing well on the productions ahead. We'll speak again towards the end of your contract. I'm sure you'll have some answer for me by then."

xoxox

Ivan was thrilled when I told him how my meeting with Philippa went. He had a feeling she'd ask me to stay, he said, and I could see in his eyes he was hoping that I would. My upcoming promotion was a reason to go and celebrate after work, he decided.

"The last one who was promoted as fast as that was Bethany, but even that wasn't six months into her contract. I'm so proud of you, hon," he said, enveloping me in a hug.

"Thanks, Ivan," I whispered. Inside, I was yearning for different arms to be held in.

"Do you want to know what I think?" His voice was contemplative, his chin resting against the top of my head.

I cringed. Did I? "What?"

He pulled away, and I was instantly on my guard. I knew this unusually serious face. "I think you should call home and tell him."

"Ivan – "

"What's the worst thing that could happen?"

I sulked. "He'll hang up on me."

"No, he won't," he protested, and pinned me with another significant look. "You're not getting better, love."

Hearing it from someone else was painful, especially because I knew he was right. I _wasn't_ getting better. Not even close.

"Talk to him. Show him you're more mature about this. Be the braver one. Do the right thing." He pinched my cheek gently, clearly waiting for me to crack a smile. "You're much prettier when you're happy."

I decided to take Ivan's advice. I _did_ want to speak to Edward, more than anything, and I knew that if I apologized for what happened almost two weeks ago, he would, too. I had the perfect excuse for making the call now, as well. Philippa said I didn't have to bother myself with making decisions just now, and I wasn't going to. I needed to put the pieces of my crumpling relationship back together first.

We had about an hour between shows, so I decided to try and give him a call during that time. I nearly bumped into Ivan on my way out. He had this know-all smile, as if he guessed exactly where I was headed. "You go and get him back, love!" he cheered me on, hollering from across the hallway.

"Thanks, Ivan," I laughed. The sound was unfamiliar. I hadn't laughed in days.

"Are you joining us for lunch?"

"I might, later."

"We'll be at the pub!"

There was a payphone around the corner from the stage door, and I was grateful for the fact I still had my dialing card in my bag. I followed the instructions, and my heartbeat was surprisingly steady although my fingers were shaking. I had to dial each number carefully so I wouldn't miss anything. When I was done, I held the receiver to my ear and looked out. Standing in that soundproof booth was like being in a bubble. Outside, people went on with their day. I let my eyes follow a man whose head was buried in his newspaper. Somehow he managed to walk straight without bumping into anything in his way.

"Hello?"

I staggered, and held on to the booth's glass door for support. I blinked as if the woman on the other end could see the shock and confusion on my face.

"Hello, is there anyone there?"

My tongue was tied. Or so it felt. I wanted to speak, but found myself unable to. I hadn't dialed a wrong number. I was certain of it. A part of me still wanted to believe it was a mistake, but I knew it couldn't have been.

And of course, I was right. "Who is it?" Edward's voice was distinct, even from a distance. I clutched the phone tighter. There were rustling sounds and a murmured conversation I couldn't make out, and then his voice was closer. "Hello?"

Tears were already there when my eyelids pressed tightly together. I slammed the phone back into its cradle as a sob escaped me, a first out of many. I wasn't brave; I didn't want to be brave. I just wanted him back, but it was too late for that, now. When I finally got my crying under control, I rushed to the theatre to get myself together, determined not to shed one tear on him as long as I was at work. When Ivan, back from lunch, gave me an expectant look, I told him there was no answer. Whether he bought it or not, he didn't press me, and I loved him for it.

By the time I got home, I felt empty. The adrenaline, my legal anesthetic, was sadly beginning to wear off, and memory came rushing back. The sounds of it were pounding in my head. Now was the time to fall apart. Now I was back at my haven, the only place I allowed myself to break down in, but the tears wouldn't come. Exhaustion washed over me. I just wanted to sleep it off.

The phone rang when I was getting ready for bed. It was close to midnight, and the sound pierced the silence in the apartment. I considered to just let the sound die, but it was too loud, and I was sure it was audible all the way to the street. Not wanting to wake everyone else, I picked it up.

"What's up, kiddo?"

My heart stopped, then began to beat faster. "Emmett. Hey."

"I expected something along the lines of _omigod it's Emmett, eeeee!_ after not speaking to me in about two weeks."

He used this high-pitched, squeaky voice; it was impossible not to crack a smile. "Sorry. I'm just…" _Heartbroken_. "Tired. How… how have you been?"

"Ah, you know. The usual stuff. It always sucks being back at work after the holidays."

"Try to work _during_ the holidays. See if you like it better."

He smirked at my retort. "Anyway, kid, I haven't called earlier because I didn't want to interrupt any lovebirds quality time," he let his voice trail suggestively.

His statement surprised me more than it embarrassed me. Hadn't Edward told him?

"You there, Bella?"

His voice made me snap out of it. "Yeah. Sorry. You were saying?"

"You must have kept him busy. He didn't even get us chocolate when he was back last week."

For a second, I was at loss. I wasn't sure how much Emmett knew or what I should tell him. And then, on an instinct, I decided to pretend. "Oh. Yeah, sorry about that. I was working a lot and there was so much I wanted to show him…" I was furious with myself for taking part in this childish game. Why did I need to pretend everything was okay when it wasn't? Why did I need to stoop to his level? But my voice seemed to be operating on its own. "I'll make it up to you." I was disgusted with the cheerful façade I forced on. Inside, I was bleeding.

"I know it's really late and you need to get your beauty sleep. I just wanted to say hi."

"Well, hi back," I smiled.

There was a long pause, and then his voice was guarded, and a little more serious. "You okay, Bella?"

"Perfect," I managed, my voice thick with tears. I held back a sob. "I'll call you soon, okay?" I hoped he didn't catch the quiver in my voice. "Say hi to Rose and Jade for me."

Even sleep let me down that night. I lay in bed staring emptily at the ceiling. It wasn't that strange, feminine voice that kept me awake, or the thought that I might have lost him for good now. Philippa's words were whirling back in, seeming more reasonable to me than ever before. _We will love to keep you with us_.

Maybe I _should_ consider it. Staying here another year was suddenly extremely tempting. I loved being here. I was getting used to the weather. I had friends I loved. With this early promotion, there was no doubt I could get much more than this if I kept up what I was doing right now, which seemed to be working okay. Nothing was waiting for me in New York. If I was being honest with myself, I didn't want that plan B I'd come up with earlier today; I didn't want to spend my life in godforsaken Forks. I'd rather stay here and make something out of myself, be someone. I'd already lost Edward, so I might as well build a proper career for myself, to compensate the loss. It would be kind of ironic if _he_ were the one who'd eventually be responsible for my professional rise.

Yeah, I told myself when sleep had finally come for me. I could definitely stay here another year.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I feel really bad about torturing you guys with endless angst, and so I thought a speedy update is in order. The site seems to be acting a little strange these days and I really hope the alerts are working at least because this chapter is sort of a turning point - wouldn't want you to miss it! I'll leave you to it now. Reviews are still awesome =)**

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Chapter Twenty Four – Edward

Back in New York, things slowly returned to normal, or something quite close to it. It was mostly thanks to Claire, who kept me steady on my feet. Since that first evening I came knocking on her door, she'd always been around, never quite sure when I'd snap, according to her. She always hovered about, somehow without being irritating about it. She made sure I'd get on with my life routine without having to bug me to do it. She kept me company when I was home, and even if we didn't have much to say to one another, her presence alone was enough.

But even Claire wasn't enough of a substitution to the piercing void within me. While I needed someone to confide in, desperately, she was never more than a friend to me. I didn't even have to clear things out with her on that front. I knew how she felt; I had known it since the miserable incident in Thanksgiving. Things could have easily gone downhill that day I showed up on her doorstep, but somehow, despite the bad shape I'd been at, I remembered where the last time had led me to. There was some comfort to know that in some ways, I had learned my lesson.

There was certain relief in realizing I was getting better. Bella and I hadn't been on speaking terms for nearly three weeks, but at least now I wasn't up all night thinking about it. I couldn't afford wasting too much time doing that. The semester had just finished a couple of weeks ago, and the workload was accordingly, which provided me with something to keep my mind off things. I was especially worried about a research paper I had to start for one of my elective courses. I'd put it off for as long as I could, until it was impossible to postpone no longer.

Despite the fact it kept me busy, this paper couldn't have come in a worse timing. The title of the course was _Musical Life in Handel's London_, which, exactly as it sounded, discussed Handel's influence on the world of music in 18th century London. I chose it at the time because I thought it would be fun to learn about the history of the area Bella was going to move to. It went without saying that throughout the semester, I regretted this decision.

I had no choice but get to work now. The sooner I'd put the paper behind me, the better, I told myself. The due date for the final paper went as far as June. We needed to hand in a first draft by the end of spring break. I was determined to do a good job on it, despite my lack of motivation. I wouldn't let my personal life screw up my academic career, or what was left of it. I wanted to do well; I wanted to prove myself I was someone without her as well. I didn't need her.

But that was one nasty lie. I missed her every day, no matter how angry thinking about her had made me.

As the time passed, the anger dimmed. The pain of the memory lingered, but as life became busier, it was pushed to the back of my mind, where it remained throbbing, like a hint of a migraine. I embraced any sort of distraction that numbed it, that kept the memory away. I reveled at the opportunity of not having to dwell of it every waking hour.

I would never admit it to anyone, but I rather enjoyed doing the research for my paper. I'd never gone to such depth on a paper. The majority of my theoretical courses didn't have similar requirements. But Mr. Miller was a guest lecturer from Columbia University. History was his focus, and research was in his blood. As early as our first lesson, it became clear that he meant to pass it on to us. Despite my efforts to shut myself out, I got sucked in to the social life of 18th century London. I spent more hours in the library than I'd ever done on a paper before.

It was sort of exciting to see it wear shape, turning from random notes on a notepad into an actual paper. I felt like an idiot when I tried to describe this sense of accomplishment to people. Emmett especially made fun of me, saying how I was all aglow while talking about it, and how he wished it happened sooner so he could assign me his own papers to write. The only ones who actually understood me were my father, even though we didn't share the same field of interest, and Rosalie, whom while not too keen about the issue of paper writing, at least didn't make fun of me like my brother had done.

I tried not to let school come in the way of my work at the community center. When the pressure became too much to take, I quit my job at the studio. Olga wasn't too thrilled about my desertion, but my final year in Juilliard was too important for me to mess it up. Her sour faces, combined with Jordan's snotty attitude (which she had maintained since I turned her down during the summer), were rapidly getting on my nerves. I enjoyed working with the kids much better, anyway. There was a big performance due in the spring, a collaboration of various centers around Manhattan, but I'd already notified Kerry I might not be able to attend it. I wanted to see how I was doing with my paper first.

"I really hope you'd be able to join in," Anya said when I told her about my conversation with Kerry. The Lincoln Center was hosting the performance, and so naturally the girls in Anya's class were going to take part in the show. I was actually looking forward to working with her.

"I know. It'll be fun."

"You just need to work on this paper a little faster," she winked at me.

"Sure, why haven't I thought about it before?" I laughed. I asked her how her classes were going. I loved listening to her while she was speaking about her job. She clearly enjoyed herself there. It made me wonder how soon it would be before she opened her own studio. She was good at what she did; a part of me knew it was only a matter of time before it happened.

"I just spoke to Alice the other night," she said as the conversation died out a little. The sudden mention of my cousin's name made me tense involuntarily. I braced my coffee mug a little tighter as Anya continued. "She asked me to tell you she's very upset with you for not calling her."

"I've been busy," I mumbled, although my heart twitched with guilt. I _should_ have called.

"I told her as much. I wouldn't think much of it; you know how dramatic she can get," Anya chuckled as she rolled her eyes. We were both overly familiar with my cousin's temper.

"How is she doing?"

"Pretty well, I think. She's stopping in Seattle in a few weeks. She said your parents might travel over to see her perform."

"That's great," I replied absentmindedly.

"She asked how did your visit to London go, but I told her she'd better ask you or Bella personally." She winked again, looking proud of herself for being able to protect my privacy from Alice.

I tried not to wince, to return her smile, to act as normally as possible. Whereas Claire knew exactly what was going on, Anya did not. I didn't feel comfortable to confide in her since she was Bella's friend first. A part of me feared that once again, she would take Bella's side. It was easier with Claire, who had never met Bella. It was even easier because she was just a flight of stairs away. I knew my dependency on her was getting dangerous, obsessive almost, but knowing it was mutual made me feel less pathetic somehow.

We spent a lot of time together, sometimes full afternoons that stretched into the evening, if I didn't have a lot of homework. Sometimes she'd stayed over to listen while I practiced on my piano. She taught me how to cook, and I was slowly getting better at that. She made herself my research assistant and got me material out of the public library. She proofread some of my drafts and told me where I'd done right or wrong. We went to see a few plays together, and introduced each other our favorite restaurants. Every once in a while she attempted to bring up the thing that bothered me, but I didn't let her. I didn't want to talk about it. I was finally beginning to heal – or so I told myself. Believing the lie was easy, soothing.

I reveled at the fact that I'd managed to fool everyone, Emmett included. I pretended to be in London for the week as settled, and made sure not to contact anyone during those days I was supposedly abroad. I hardly left the apartment, and when I did, I didn't frequent places I thought my friends might be at. Then, when I was 'back', I used school as an excuse to see them less, but the truth was I didn't want to risk speaking to any of them. I remembered the last time too well. I'd better avoid Emmett for as long as I could with this.

This was not to say I didn't have moments when I was holding my breath fearing I was close to exposure. One of them was this weekend, when I had lunch at Emmett and Rosalie's place. Rosalie was at the nursery with the baby, and Emmett and I retired to the living room after lunch, where he switched the TV on. I reached for the stack of newspapers on the coffee table and began to tackle the crossword. It was a calculated move on my side – Emmett had always known better than disturbing me while I was working on that crossword. Nonetheless, not ten minutes later, he spoke.

"So I was just talking to Bella the other night."

"Oh?" There was only mild interest in my voice. I didn't even look up, part of me expecting his comment. Her name hadn't come up once during lunch, something he might have found odd. I knew it was something I should have considered, but I couldn't bring myself to speak about her while being so angry with her still.

Then an instant later, I realized I _should_ be on my guard. Emmett wouldn't just say something like that without a reason. Not speaking about her wasn't a good enough motive for him to start a conversation. What if he knew something? I hadn't said anything about what happened in London, but what if Bella had? Emmett would be twice as furious with me if he got it from her. "How is she?"

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at my question, and I froze. Was that the wrong thing to say?

"I haven't… spoken to her… in a few days," I managed eventually. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. Please don't let him figure it out, I begged silently. I didn't have the strength to endure my brother's reproaching remarks.

"Spending too much time at the library again?"

There was actually a hint of sympathy in his query. I nodded vigorously, jumping on the opportunity to use my research as an excuse.

"She's fine, just tired. She said she couldn't wait for that production to be over. I bet she can't feel her feet, the poor girl. You'll have to carry her around everywhere when she's back."

I forced myself to laugh at his comment. I was struggling to keep my focus. If he knew I hadn't been speaking to her for the past three weeks…

And then something terrifying occurred to me. What if she _had_ told him? What if this was some sort of a test, and he was waiting for one wrong move on my side to attack?

"It's wonderful news about her promotion, isn't it?"

My pen was suspended in the air, and I had a feeling he noticed me shifting uncomfortably in my seat. What promotion? "Yes, it's great." I'd always been a horrible liar, but now I lied through my teeth as if my life depended on it, and was determined to continue for as long as it took. I didn't know she'd been promoted, of course, and it scared me that I could hardly find the energy to care.

"She said they never promoted people so soon after they joined the company. If she keeps it up, you might want to start worrying she'll never want to come home!"

I shut myself against his booming laughter. This time I couldn't bring myself to join in. Under normal circumstances a comment such as this one would freak me out with the possibility of her wanting to stay there. Right now… I wondered if I wouldn't be better off if she did.

xoxox

A few more days passed, and Emmett still hadn't cornered me about the Bella situation, which was all for the better. I didn't know if he was suspecting things, but at some point I decided not to ponder over it, knowing it would make me twice as stressed if I did. I decided to just let things happen. It wasn't as if I was the only one guilty in our fallout. I wasn't the only one saying nasty things. She was just as much to blame.

It was February, and somehow the lie was still out there. To be honest, I was just too busy to worry about Emmett – or anyone else, for that matters – discovering the truth. I had a meeting due with Mr. Miller where we were supposed to discuss the progress of my research paper, and I spent hours at the library every other day in preparations for this meeting. In one of those days, when I felt the beginning of a headache, I decided to call it a night earlier than I normally would.

I didn't feel like cooking my own dinner tonight, and so I got some pizza on my way home. I deliberately chose a large one so I could share it with Claire, if she was in. It was becoming a sort of a joke between us. Despite the variety of restaurants we'd hung out at recently, none of them, not even the takeouts, included pizza. It felt like a waste of money to settle on pizza when the options were so unlimited. Pizza had sort of become the underdog of our culinary rendezvous. I didn't feel like having anything more sophisticated for dinner tonight, so I thought it was a good opportunity to revel at our own personal joke.

I found myself whistling on the way upstairs, which was something I'd rarely done, fighting with Bella or not. Although I didn't allow myself to become complacent, I had a good feeling about the way this paper was heading. It definitely justified a night off. I took the last two stairs in one stride and balanced the pizza box in one hand so I could knock on the door.

My good mood evaporated as soon as I caught sight of Claire's face. "What's wrong?"

It took her longer than it should have to answer. "Nothing. What you got there?"

I hesitated. Maybe I should have called. "I got us some dinner, but I can – "

"Oh, no, no. Come on in."

I walked in and placed the box on the counter. Then I turned to give her an inspecting look. She didn't look ill, but she didn't look well either. She'd always been so animated; that was the thing I liked most about her, because it was so different than my own nature. It was all gone now. She looked listless, weary. It was worrying. "Are you sick?"

"No. I'm just a little… down."

Down was an understatement. Her shoulders were slouched, her hair pulled back in a lifeless ponytail. There was suspicious swelling beneath her eyes, as if she'd spent several hours crying. She looked very pale, and extremely fragile. I searched my memory, but I didn't remember an important audition she might have messed up. And anyway it looked more serious than that. "Do you want to talk about it?"

To my surprise, she shook her head. "No point. It's not going to change things."

"But it might." The optimism in my reply surprised me. When had we switched role, and _I_ began to console _her_? I felt at loss against her troubled expression.

"It won't."

Something in her tone – a sort of acceptance, I thought – made me believe her instantly. "It might not change things, but it'll do you good to get it off your chest. I'm a good listener too, you know."

She didn't return my grin. She was stalling. The inner battle reflected in her unusually bothered stare. She was still hesitant when she let her eyes meet mine. "I'm scared it would… ruin things. Between us."

"Why would it?" I asked somewhat fretfully. I hoped she wasn't going to bring up what happened in Thanksgiving. After finally getting over my initial dread of what happened then, my heart was racing again with a different sort of panic. What if she reconsidered things, or developed some sort of feelings I couldn't reciprocate? It shouldn't surprise me if that were to be the case. We _had_ spent a lot of time together recently. Honestly, I couldn't think of anything else that would threaten our friendship in some way.

"Because you might judge me," she finally admitted, looking genuinely scared rather than embarrassed by her confession.

"I'll _try_ not to take offense by what you just said," I taunted her, hoping my tone would lighten up the atmosphere a little. When she didn't even crack a smile, I gave her a look. "I thought you knew me better than that, Claire. I won't judge you."

"You can't promise before you heard it," she protested, but there was a smile ghosting in the corners of her lips. I gave her another look. She huffed with what sounded like defeat. "Okay, fine. Let's sit down."

I took the pizza with us, thinking she would appreciate the distraction, which she seemed to do. For the longest time, she said nothing as we both chewed on our slices of pizza. She stared thoughtfully at nothing ahead of her, but stayed quiet. I didn't say anything either, although I was rather curious now. Whatever was on her mind, it seemed to be difficult for her to talk about it, and I didn't want to press her.

She reached for a second slice of pizza, but dropped it as soon as she got it. "I wasn't completely honest with you before."

Her statement confused me more than it surprised me. "What are you talking about? When is before?"

"When I told you about myself, about why I got here."

Her guarded tone could only mean one things. "About the man you left in London?"

She nodded, as I'd expected her to. "There was something I was… leaving out. From the story. It was too personal and I didn't know you well enough to – "

"You don't need to apologize, Claire," I said, gently because it seemed to bother her. "You don't have to tell me now if you don't feel comfortable with it." I was beginning to regret pressing her to tell me in the first place.

"No. I want to. You're the closest friend I've ever had and… like you said; I need it off my chest."

"I won't judge you," I promised again when she didn't continue. It didn't encourage her like I hoped it would. She kept staring into space in that same contemplative expression from before. I found myself mystified by it, trying in vain to guess what it was all about. What could she have possibly left out of the story of her life in London? And why would she think I'd care so much as to judge her for it?

I had a few theories and assumptions, all of them wild guesses, but none of them had even come close to what she said next.

"I had a baby." Before I even got a chance to absorb the abrupt statement, she brought her eyes to meet mine. They looked huge, almost as though she was begging for my forgiveness. "I left him with her when she was four months old."

I knew she was expecting me to react in some way, but I couldn't. Her statement, a well-protected secret, as it appeared, was like a missing link on a crossword. I remembered what she'd told me on that conversation a few months ago. _And then… things happened, and I had to leave_. I had too many questions, too many things I wanted to say. It felt as if I would never come around to saying it all.

"I've always known Nathan was the one, even though weren't together for a long time. I know it probably sounds stupid and irresponsible, but it sort of happened. I probably should have warned you in advance that I'm not the best role model for you." She laughed darkly. Her expression turned somber again as she continued. "I wasn't ready to start a family so soon, not even with him. Even if I realized at that point I would never be that great actress I dreamt about, I needed to prove myself I was still able to at least graduate. I didn't want to waste away my degree, to ditch so close to graduation. I planned not to tell him, to just… you know, get rid of it. I already had an appointment set."

Her arms, up until then limp in her lap, absentmindedly circled around her stomach as she spoke. "It sounds cliché, but as days passed, I sort of got attached to it. I didn't know it was a girl at the time. I didn't even think of it as a baby at this point. It was just this hopeless thing that depended on me. Doing anything to it felt like the worst kind of betrayal.

"I didn't show up for my appointment. I went to tell him instead. I told myself that if he didn't want it, I'd raise it by myself somehow. I had no idea how I was going to do that; everyone knows the horror stories about the difficulties single parents run into. I only knew by impulse that I wanted to keep it. I _needed_ to keep it.

"I cried for three hours in his office. I was so afraid he would kick me out as soon as I told him, but he was thrilled. I'd never seen him so happy before. I was sure it would ruin us, but the next few months turned out to be the best time in our relationship, while we were waiting for her to arrive. It was summer when I found out, so we didn't have to worry about keeping the secret from people on campus in the meantime. During the summer, we were planning ahead. He was going to ask for transference for another college. Westminster embraced him almost immediately. I remember it surprised me; it usually took longer for new lecturers to get accepted. They were so pleased of him they offered him tenure after only a few months."

I waited silently for the rest of the story. Suddenly I was curious to know everything: what happened next, how people responded to her when she showed up, pregnant, when the new semester began, did they manage to protect their secret. I already knew this story didn't have a happy ending. I could only guess why she would leave her baby at four months of age. I figured that at some point, the impulsive enthusiasm faded as reality sank back in. For the longest time, though, Claire said nothing. The pain of reliving the past was alive and burning in her glossy stare.

"It's her birthday today," she said, her voice now trembling, when she let her eyes meet mine again. "She's seven years old today."

She shook her head without waiting for my response. "I know what you must be thinking. How thoughtless it is, and selfish, to abandon your own child like that just because you don't think you can handle the pressure. But I was punished – I _am_ punished – every single day. And every year it gets worse. Her birthday is the only day I can't lie to myself and say I made the right thing by leaving them."

"I wasn't thinking that," I contradicted her, although a part of me was, among other things. But there was something else that was bothering me now, something I couldn't help wondering about. "Seven years is a long time."

She chuckled humorlessly. "Longer than you'd think."

"Do you miss her?"

"I think… I didn't know her well enough to miss her. I'm curious though."

"I'd be curious, too." I wouldn't leave in the first place, though. For a moment I sat there wondering where the hell the thought had come from. I had intended to keep my promise and not be judgmental. Besides, it was unfair to come up with such statements. Maybe under certain circumstances I would have done the same. "There is a way to handle this curiosity of yours, you know."

She shook her head before I even got a chance to finish, as if she guessed what I wanted to suggest. "If I left you with a baby and came back years later asking to see her, would you have let me?"

I hung my head and heard her sigh, as if she had anticipated my reaction.

"Maybe if I haven't waited for so long. Like I said, it's too late." I didn't like the acceptance in her voice. It wasn't like her to look so defeated. "Hey, don't just sit there. I didn't tell you this to come up with magical solutions so don't feel bad about it. I just needed to let it out. I've never told anyone about this, you know."

"Not even your parents?"

"My parents know. But I didn't have to say anything. My mom has crazy instincts. They weren't happy about what I've done, but you know me. Stubborn." Her smile was melancholic. "I named her Emilia, after my mom."

"I'm not sure what to say," I admitted after a while.

"You don't have to say anything," she assured me, looking so sad it broke my heart. "It's enough that you don't run away screaming."

"Did you actually think I'd do that?"

"No." Her smile was tiny, but at least it was there. "I would never have told you if I thought you would."

xoxox

Claire seemed slightly more composed when I left her that evening, but to my surprise, I was unable to shake her story off. I tried to put myself in her place, to consider things as she had at the time, but found myself unable to. It was unbelievable to me that she'd do a thing like that, but then again, I couldn't be sure I wouldn't have acted in a similar way. People had made the strangest choices under certain circumstances.

I lay in bed, tossing and turning. It was late – probably after midnight – but I was far from falling asleep. At some point I thought I might have drifted, because suddenly Bella was there. It surprised me to find her there, in the darkest corner of my unconscious. I hadn't thought about her all day, and it seemed strange for me to be reminded of her all of a sudden. But then the reason for it occurred to me. Seven years ago, Claire was Bella's age. It could have been Bella in Claire's place. It could have been Bella's choice, our baby. One wrong move and it could easily have been my future.

But some similarities didn't have to be stretched into an imaginary future. Claire's motivations to leave were not that different than Bella's. She, too, had chosen her career over someone she could have spent the rest of her life with. But even with this startling similarity in mind, I couldn't shake off the thought of that imaginary future, in which I could have ended up raising a child by myself. What would I have done if Bella had walked out on me that way?

But in a way, with or without a baby in the picture, she had already done just that.

One moment she was there, looking radiant in that grey coat she wore the last time I saw her. In the next moment, like a hologram, the vision changed into one of Bella all in white, in full ballet garb, dancing with a baby in her arms. Her image had a dreamlike quality; before I could make sense of her expression, the image changed again to that hateful evening a little over a month ago when everything fell apart.

_What a lovely family._

I wanted to shy away from the memory, but I was unable to. It was too poignant, far too detailed for something I yearned to leave behind me. The little girl saying something, Bella laughing in response, and that man watching the two of them as Bella tugged at one of the girl's pigtails –

I woke up instantly, gasping as I sat up. I was shaken so violently I had to sit still for a moment to calm my suddenly erratic breathing.

The girl at the stage door had red hair.

Memory worked in cruel, torturous ways. Suddenly this was the only detail about her I could remember. I didn't think much of her at the time, which didn't help. I was too busy observing her father. It looked too unbelievable to be even considered possible. They _were_ alone at the stage door. Of course, it was more than likely that the man was happily married, his wife being at home or whatnot, but this vague suspicion began to fizz within me now, leaving me even more restless than before. Could he be the one Claire had deserted all these years ago? Was that the child she had cried over tonight, and for the past seven years?

Considering what I'd witnessed at the stage door that evening, the way they were so taken by Bella, and she by them, brought about one more question. Its presence was throbbing like an open wound.

Did Claire even have any chance to get them back?

The recollection of the fight that followed was painfully clearer. Bella flinched when I asked her about the man's wife. I remembered her reaction, as if she was trying to protect something. She was horrified at my suggestion of her coming between these people, of him cheating on his wife with her. She was vague when she defended him, but at the time, I'd associated it with her fury. Now I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it. Was that it, then? The dark secret she'd been protecting? Did she know something I was only beginning to realize myself?

And most importantly – was it too late to set things right?

_It's not what it looks like_, she'd said back then, and I was too heated to think much of it. At the time, her words sounded like empty denial. Now I wondered if there was something else she was trying to tell me, something else I was missing because I didn't have all the pieces of the puzzle.

There was only one thing I thought of doing, only one thing I _could_ do. My heart still racing, I grabbed the phone and dialed Bella's number in London.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Sorry I made you wait so long for this, everyone. I meant to post this sooner, but the last several days have been a little hectic. It's all good now - here's the next installment. Happy birthday, Bernie :)**

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**Chapter Twenty Five – Bella**

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear E-mi-ly… happy birthday to you!"

The end of our song was a rather pathetic attempt at a harmony, but Emily didn't seem to mind we were so off-tune. She blew off the candle on her cupcake and gave Nathan a hug. Struggling to maintain my smile, I winced inwardly when I caught sight of his expression. It was that yearning again, three times stronger than normally. I figured it would be a tough day, and I hoped that my presence would ease the pain, if only by little. They picked me up after today's rehearsals to join them for dinner. Throughout the evening, Nathan's guarded face broke my heart. He was clearly making efforts to hold it together in front of her.

"Could we make cupcakes for my party?"

I tore my eyes from Nathan at the sound of Emily's question, which was clearly directed at me. She was watching me expectantly, her lips bluish purple because of the icing. She looked too cute to refuse. "We could try, but brownies are actually my specialty. I've never made cupcakes before."

"Stick with what you know," Nathan settled, glancing at me before he gave Emily a stern look. "Bella is kind enough to help us with your party, but remember she doesn't have to; she's busy with rehearsals." Her face began to fall, and I could see him yielding. I couldn't blame him, really. "I'll see if I can find some cupcakes on Sunday morning," he said eventually. The compromise seemed to please her.

He was throwing her a birthday party on Sunday afternoon. I remembered a glimpse of the birthday parties my mother threw for me in elementary school, and those weren't a pretty sight. I thought he could definitely use a hand, and so I'd offered to help.

Nathan's cell phone had suddenly gone off, ringing frantically. He looked at the screen and frowned. "I have to take this," he apologized. He accepted the call halfway out of the restaurant. I watched him for a moment before I realized Emily was staring at me quite oddly.

"Are you excited about Sunday?" I asked her.

"Not really," she replied, although her giddiness and constant queries suggested otherwise. "I'm glad you can come."

The truth was I welcomed every kind of distraction these days. It would have been so much worse if I didn't have that. My life felt so empty these past few weeks.

"Bella?"

I tensed. I knew that tone. "Yes, Emily?" I tried to pass the question as teasing, but inside, my heart was racing. Please don't ask me about Edward, I begged silently.

"If someone asks me on Sunday who you are, what should I tell them?"

On second thought, I would have been better off if she _had_ asked me about Edward. "Why – why do you ask, honey?" I stammered, struggling to buy time.

"A girl in my class asked me if you were my new mommy," she said, looking at me kind of fretfully, as if she wasn't sure how I would respond.

It shouldn't have shocked me. I saw the way parents were looking at Nathan and me on Christmas, and I knew what it looked like. I knew that if strangers were jumping to conclusions like that, Emily, who had actually spent time with us, was bound to do so as well. My mind wandered again to that night after Christmas, to the kiss I now regretted. I wondered if my stupid slip had done anything to further plant any thoughts in Emily's mind.

Guilt consumed me. I should have known better. I _had_ known better – better than her, anyway. She might not fully understand the hints and whispers, but I was sure she understood enough to be bothered by this kind of talk. And I had no one but myself to blame. "Do kids bug you a lot about that, Emily?"

"No. Just Marcia. But that's because she doesn't like me. She's never nice to smaller girls. This is why Tilly and I didn't want to be best friends with her last year." I hid a smile. Oh, the simple life of elementary school. "Daddy says I shouldn't mind her, and that she's ar – ar – aro – "

"Arrogant?"

"Yes," she smiled gratefully, and then her small face became serious as her eyes met mine, still echoing the previous question.

"Well, if anyone asks you on Sunday, just tell them I'm your friend."

I knew how lame it sounded, but I couldn't figure out another way around it. I began to regret more than just kissing Nathan, which by itself had disastrous consequences. I shouldn't have gone to that Christmas play with him and encourage this sort of gossip in the first place. I shouldn't have promised I'd be there on Sunday and expose Emily to more teasing from her classmates. And more than anything, I shouldn't have come here today, acting as a poor substitution for a mother she didn't have. Yes, it was loneliness that had drawn me to them in the first place, and it was loneliness that made me crave for their company now, but there was a thin line between friendship and dependency. Under the current circumstances, it seemed I had to be twice as careful about not crossing that line. It felt I'd already done Emily more damage than I'd done her good.

xoxox

I went straight to bed when I got back. I couldn't stop thinking about what Emily had asked me, about what better answer I could have given her, but I couldn't afford wasting sleep on it. I was exhausted, and I had another full day of rehearsals tomorrow. I wanted to get as much rest as I could, considering I wouldn't have much time to rest during the weekend. I knew a part of me was avoiding the issue that really bothered me. More than that, I knew I'd have to tackle it sooner or later. A part of me thought of cancelling Saturday, but as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I eliminated it. Nathan would count on my help; it would be unfair to bail on him that way.

Sleep was deep and instant that night, and accompanied with floating images of cupcakes with purple icing. The sound came out of nowhere, pulling me out of sleep so deep that it took me a long moment to realize I was even awake, and that it wasn't a part of my hazy dream. The sound was persistent, and it remained even after I opened my eyes. It sounded close, too loud in the otherwise silence room, which was when it dawned on me it was because the phone was right next to me on the bedside, where I'd left it the previous day. Groaning, I reached out for it.

"Hello," I mumbled. My eyelids were drooping already as I leaned against the pillows again.

"Bella?"

My eyes snapped open, and a gasp escaped me before I could remind myself to hold it back. I sat up and blinked into the darkness, just to make sure I was actually awake. Surprise lasted about five seconds before anger sipped back in. First I don't hear from him for weeks and then he calls in the dead of the friggin' night? I wanted to hang up on him. I wanted him to feel exactly how it felt when he left me here without even telling me where he was going. But my gasp had already given me away. Besides, I found myself unable to put the phone down. It was the first time I heard his voice in days, and despite everything, I missed it.

"Bella, please don't hang up. I know you're mad – "

"What do you want?" The question came out softer than I intended. It was supposed to sound vicious, but instead it sounded drained and sort of desperate. I was just so tired, of everything. If he called to drop some more of his ridiculous suspicions on me, in the middle of the night, no less, I didn't want to hear it.

"There's something I need to tell you. Please, just… just listen."

There was desperation in his voice as well, I realized. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and leaned against the bed board, waiting for the rest of it. The less I'd speak, the better. I had a feeling that if I started, I'd explode, and I didn't feel like having a replay of that last time.

"Bella?"

The urgency in his tone made me irrationally irritated. I closed my eyes to compose myself, and held back the sigh I could feel coming. "I'm listening."

"I think I figured something out, but I need your help. I need some answers – "

Something within me snapped. I groaned; my attempted patience was all gone. "Do you realize what time it is?"

But he ignored me. "I want you to tell me about the man and the little girl I saw at the stage door."

My eyes narrowed instinctively, even though he couldn't see me. I should have known. "There's nothing more to say about it. You made it quite clear."

"I need you to tell me about this girl's mother," he pressed me.

"Emily doesn't have a mother," I replied curtly, wondering what on earth he was on about. I didn't feel like being more specific than that; it was none of his business. Besides, that kind of interrogation could have waited until tomorrow morning. "Is there anything else or can I go back to sleep now?"

On the other end, there was silence, which infuriated me even more. If he'd just fallen asleep on me…

"Edward? Are you there?"

"Bella," he whispered, but his voice sounded different now. It was still urgent, but there was a hint of… if I hadn't known better, I'd say it was awe. "This little girl Emily… was it her seventh birthday today?"

My forehead cringed in confusion. "How the hell do you know that?"

"I'll tell you in a second – just… there's one more thing I need you to tell me."

"What?"

"Her dad. Is he… seeing anybody?"

I huffed, exasperated. He was out of line. "I don't see how any of that is your business, after making it so clear you wanted nothing to do with them. Or with me, for that matters. Besides, you clearly think _I'm_ seeing him, so I don't see any point in answering – "

"I think I found Emily's mother."

It was my turn to be silent.

"Bella?"

I was fully awake now, my mind painfully alert. "How?"

"It's a really long story and I don't want to wear you out with the details just now – "

"Highlights."

"She's our neighbor. The one I've been… spending time with recently. It wasn't until tonight when it clicked. There was this man in London she was madly in love with, but it wasn't until tonight she told me there was a baby involved – "

"Edward, do you realize what you're saying here?" I kicked the covers off me as I straightened up. I clutched the phone so hard it ached. If he was right…

He ignored my question. Urgency was burning in his voice when he next spoke. "Tell me more about him."

Even with my mind clearer, my memory suddenly went blank. "Well, umm, he's a lecturer of drama and literature – "

"At the University of Westminster?"

"Yes," I breathed, my heart suddenly racing as the enormity of what was going on began to sink in.

"Is he doing a research about Shakespeare?"

"The supernatural in Shakespeare's plays, yes."

"Is his mother's name Lillian?"

I only knew the answer to that because Emily told me dozens of times how she was named after both her grandmothers. I nodded, a silent reply to his question, without realizing he wasn't there to see me. The only way he could have known the name of Nathan's mother was if this really _was_ Emily's mother on his end. "Oh, my God," I murmured. "Edward, are you _sure_ – "

"Bella, Claire's hair is _exactly_ the same color as Emily's."

I started when he spoke out her name, the one I'd heard Nathan utter with unfulfilled longing dozens of times since I got here. I knew that with that distinct shade of red, mistakes were impossible. Even in as brief an encounter as Edward's with Emily.

Once the shock dissipated, practicality sipped in. It felt as if as strong as his urgency had been earlier, mine was twice as strong. Suddenly there was not a moment to lose. "What do we do?"

"Well, that depends on a question you haven't answered yet," he said, and his tone was soft, prodding.

"He's not seeing anyone." The words spilt from my lips now. He wasn't the enemy anymore. Now we had one goal in common. "I know that for a fact. And the reason I know is that he still loves her." I hesitated, and added, "Which is exactly why I could never have anything with him, like you suspected."

On his end, there was a long pause, but I wasn't sure if it was because he needed the information about Nathan to sink in, or because of that second part of my statement. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle. "I'm so sorry, Bella. I should never have doubted you."

"No, don't," I cut him off. The conversation had suddenly taken a new turn. It wasn't about Nathan and Claire anymore. It was about us. His apology woke something within me. It felt as if we'd been there, in the exact same place, many times before. It had only just dawned on me how wrong this was, how twisted. I laughed darkly. "I don't know how I do it, or why, but I seem to keep hurting you without meaning to. You always apologize for things I'm the one to blame for in the first place." I paused to take a shaky breath. The sudden dampness against my cheeks surprised me. "If I haven't decided to come here – "

"Going to London was right;" it was his turn to cut me off. The decisiveness in his voice caught me off-guard. "It was the right thing to do, for you."

"But not for us," I whispered back. There was a pause on his end, as if he didn't have a reply for that. "I took you for granted. I believed it would be easy to just leave because you'd wait for me. I didn't think too much about what it would do to you, what it would do to me without you."

"We always take things for granted, until we lose them."

I nodded at his quiet statement even though he couldn't see me. I could feel more tears coming, because I wasn't entirely sure what he meant. I couldn't help but think back about that day when I called him, and that woman – Claire? – picked up. Had I lost him, then? Was that what he meant? Was it really over?

"Are you and Claire…" I started, but soon trailed, unable to finish the question. Hearing it aloud hurt more than I thought it would. I sat there holding my breath, bracing myself for his reply.

"Nothing happened. Well, I kissed her – tried to – once – but it wasn't – she didn't – I didn't even mean – I mean, I did, but not – "

As I listened to his flustered attempt to explain himself, I couldn't help thinking about Nathan, that kiss on Christmas Eve, and his own frenzied apologies. Even if Edward had initiated a kiss with Claire, even if he had meant it at the time, I couldn't hold it against him. It would be hypocritical of me to throw a fit after dismissing Nathan's apology under similar circumstances. "It's okay."

"Not, it really isn't. I felt awful afterwards. I still do, I can't believe I…"

I held back a chuckle. They had more in common than I realized. "Please, stop."

"I'm sorry. I know that doing this over the phone makes it worse, but I – "

"No. I mean, stop, I don't want you to apologize."

"You're not mad."

It wasn't a question. There was puzzlement in the statement. I laughed softly. "I guess I sort of understand." I debated whether I should mention it, whether it would make a difference, but then decided honesty was the least I owed him. "Nathan… he kissed me. A few weeks ago. I turned him down. It would be unfair to be mad at you when – "

"You turned him down?"

He sounded genuinely surprised, which made me laugh more than it irritated me, from some reason. "Of course, silly."

"But that night at the stage door – "

I closed my eyes. It brought back everything I'd tried to shut out before going to bed. It wasn't until I heard the hurt in his voice I realized that so much was at stake because of this one pointless move. "A stupid challenge I should never have played along with. I don't think he's expected me to. It was stupid from many reasons. But it was meaningless. I promise. I swear."

On his end there was a pause, and a deep sigh. "You were right. I should have known better. I should never have suspected you. I should never have spoken to you the way I did."

"I said some horrible things too."

"No. I deserved it. I was such an idiot."

"I think we both were."

There was another long pause, the longest one yet. "Mine?" His voice broke on this one single word.

"Always," I whispered, nearly dizzy with relief. "I'm sorry if I've ever done anything to make you think otherwise."

"I think… that agreeing to let you go and having to live with it were two different things. It was something no one had prepared me for."

"I'm sorry I had to put you through this."

"No, in a way I'm glad you did. You said you took me for granted, but I don't think it's accurate. I think both of us took _us_ for granted. Maybe we needed this to shake us up a little."

"Maybe," I echoed, unsure if I agreed.

"Besides, if you didn't go, you could never be where you are today." His voice was softer now, more reserved somehow. "Emmett told me about your promotion. I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you." Although it felt less exciting now. Being promoted nearly came with the price of losing him.

"Does that mean… I mean, is your contract…"

"They might want to hire me for another year," I admitted carefully, thinking of the decision I'd made a few weeks ago, the one that was still at the back of my mind.

"Do you actually consider it?"

"I did, before you called."

"And now?"

"And now, I'll have to think it over if you tell me I still have a place to come back to this summer."

"Come back now."

I laughed through tears. "I love you."

"I love you, too. And I'm so sorry about Christmas, I should never – "

"Don't," I cut him off again. "There's no point looking back." There was another pause. "What do you want to do? About Nathan and Claire?"

"I'm not sure. Why don't you let me sleep on it, and in the meantime…" His voice trailed off as he groaned. "Crap, is it really six in the morning there?"

I squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the time in the clock on the opposite wall. It read fifteen minutes to six. "If I lied, would it make you feel less guilty about waking me up?"

On the other end there was a chuckle, and a yawn.

"It's better one of us gets some sleep. I'll call you when I'm back from rehearsals this evening, okay?"

I lay awake long after we hung up, just staring at the ceiling. There was no point in going back to sleep when I had to wake up so soon afterwards. Besides, I was too wired to even attempt it. I hadn't entirely grasped the enormity of what Edward had just told me. The coincidence was just too overwhelming now. I didn't want to dwell on what are we going to do, on how I was going to face Nathan in Emily's party on Sunday. I didn't want to consider the worst case scenario, one in which Nathan wouldn't take her back. For a few short hours, I felt like being selfish, and reveling at the fact that despite everything, Edward was still mine. He'd been mine all along.

xoxox

Sunday came, and astonishment hadn't ceased entirely yet. It was twice as frustrating because I couldn't tell anyone, not a soul, about it, not until we figured out a way to work it out. When I showed up at Nathan's place on Sunday, I looked at him through different eyes. I scrutinized his every movement, secretly wishing to have something to pass forward to Edward. In the past few days he'd asked me so much about Nathan and Emily, and I asked a similar amount of questions about Claire, but none of it seemed to be enough.

"Are you alright, Bella?"

I blinked. Nathan was watching me, his brow furrowed with concern. "Perfect," I replied, flushing, and turned away from him. It felt as if he would figure it all out if he watched me long enough.

"Now what?"

It took me a second to understand the question in its right context. He looked uncertainly at the ingredients I lined up on the counter in front of us, and waited for my next set of instructions. He was a good cook, although admittedly not brilliant in the bakery department. We'd been working for a bit over an hour. I went over the recipe in my head. It looked like we were nearly done.

"Stick this tray in the oven and raise the temperature."

He ventured to the oven and did as I said. "Done. Now what?"

"Now…" I thought for a moment. "Get me a cup of tea while I'm cleaning up here," I flashed a sweet smile at him from over my shoulder. He rolled his eyes at me, but went to boil some water anyway.

"This is fun," he said as he took two mugs out of the cupboard. "Thank you so much for helping me out with this, Bella."

"My pleasure." I began to put the dirty dishes in the sink. He pointed out he had a dishwasher I could use, but I didn't mind washing them myself. It had always calmed me down, in a strange sort of way. Besides, keeping my hands busy seemed essential just now. "Shouldn't Emily be out of the shower by now? She's been up there for a while."

"I'll go up there in a moment to check."

"Is there anything we forgot?" I looked over my shoulder again. Plastic cups and plates, purple napkins, all sorts of snacks, some of which were unfamiliar to me. My brownies were in the oven and the cake and drinks were in the fridge.

"No, I think we got everything."

"Are we okay on times?"

"Yes, we have about an hour before the storm breaks."

I chuckled, and continued to scrub. I really hoped my brownies would be a success because I used different ingredients than the ones I had used to use at home. Besides, I'd always had Edward to help me make them. Not that Nathan wasn't great help himself, but it was just… different with Edward. I felt my lips curl into this blissful, idiotic smile at the thought. I seemed unable to shake that smile off ever since that first phone call.

"So the peace remains, yes? Unless there were more developments I was unaware of?"

Nathan, like Ivan and Jenna, only knew about Edward and me getting back together. Exactly like Ivan, although in a much subtler way than him, he teased me endlessly about it. "No developments, thanks so much for having faith in me," I laughed, hitting him with a dish towel.

"Just checking. I just want you to be happy."

"I am." I really, truly was.

Nathan's smile was sad and sort of distant. "Better one than none," he said, so lowly I could barely hear him over the sound of the running water. There was so much pain in his voice, his eyes, so much yearning, that I almost caved. Beneath the water stream, my hands clenched into fists, trying to resist the urge to tell him everything. Not yet, I told myself. Not yet.

xoxox

The party went off smoothly. There were no tears or broken furniture or trips to the ER, no one threw up on the carpets or fell down the stairs. Emily got really cool presents and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. To my relief, my presence didn't raise awkward questions. Not on the surface, at least. When I finally got home, all I wanted to do was hoist my feet on the coffee table and set a camp there, but I couldn't do that just yet. I still had a job to do.

Grinning to myself, I took my camera out of my bag and turned on the computer. I rarely used it, but this was an emergency. The camera was a last minute idea and it worked out perfectly. I'd taken about forty pictures, but I chose the best five and uploaded them quickly. Two of them were of Nathan and Emily, both in the middle of a wild laugh with Nathan stretching out his arm as if to stop me from taking the picture. It was natural, authentic. They looked happy. This was exactly what I hoped for. The other two were just of Emily, one next to a pile of presents, and the other of her with the purple ballet shoes I got her for Christmas, showing me how she could stand on her toes. The last one was of me, a payback, as Nathan called it, but this one wasn't for Claire.

My smile widened when I logged into my email account and found Edward's address. Finally I'd have more to give him than just anecdotes and pieces of information. I attached the photos and quickly typed a short message.

_I thought you might find these useful. Party went well. We made brownies – they didn't taste the same without your help. Adding a picture of me, too, although it's pretty horrific. Off to bed now; I hope this paper is going well._

_I love you. B x_

I left the computer on when I went into the shower, just for the slim chance he was working on his computer on the other end. It was still quite early in New York, and I knew he meant to work on his paper that weekend. And sure enough, by the time I checked back, his reply awaited me.

_Sheesh, yours was my favorite picture. I bet I made you blush. She really does look a lot like Claire. Good call with the camera._

_Sleep well. I love you more._

I still had that smile on; it was impossible to shake off. I knew that to an external observer we'd look sickeningly sweet – Emmett would have made fun of us for months if our recent correspondences ever reached him somehow – but I didn't care. I was walking on air, and it almost didn't matter he wasn't actually here. Even though we still couldn't figure out a way around the Nathan and Claire issue, life was back to the way I'd known them, perfect, because he was mine. For now, nothing else mattered.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty Six – Edward**

With Bella and I being okay again, life suddenly seemed to fly by. If earlier everything had moved in slow motion, now it was as if someone had hit 'play' on double speed. Each day seemed to be ending faster than the previous one. Weekends were just as bad as every other day. With all the workload, I didn't even have a chance to tackle the new situation with Nathan and Claire. Work, training, writing – it was a tiresome routine, but I found myself enjoying it. Besides, the faster time went, the sooner Bella would come home.

Weekends were ideal for working on my research. Some, like Emmett, thought that spending Saturday morning at the library was seriously pathetic, but I liked it. The library was quieter during the weekend, and less busy, and I found I managed to do much more than in every other day, when I was always on the run, from class to work or elsewhere. I didn't have anywhere else to be during the weekend, so I could choose a desk and just sit there for hours uninterrupted.

I wasn't really worried about messing up this paper anymore. Mr. Miller had approved of the introduction and a few random sections, so I knew I was doing well. But the more I came towards writing my conclusion, I got this feeling I wasn't quite done yet. There were too many loose ends, too many things still left unexplored. Mr. Miller had warned us it would happen. Seminar topics were deliberately broad. I knew that, but a part of me refused to accept it. Whatever I'd done for this paper, somehow it didn't feel like enough.

Which was this was my fifth Saturday in a row working in the library. I had a new stack of books in front of me, and I was halfway through them when a shadow suddenly fell on my notepad. I looked up, a little startled, to find Mr. Shapiro grinning at me in his unusual sort of way. I blinked, then sat back in my chair. He left in the middle of the fall semester, and I hadn't seen him since. Rumor had it that he had some sort of family emergency, but no one had known for sure. I was sorry to have to do my training with a different instructor, but there was really no way out of it. I missed Mr. Shapiro. His departure was so sudden that more than once I had been wondering if he was even coming back, and dreading the thought that he might not.

"Why, Mr. Cullen. Long time no see."

"Sir." I shook his outstretched hand.

"May I?" he asked, nodding towards the vacant seat next to mine.

"Of course."

He observed me as he took a seat. His eyes seemed weary, but he had that same glimmer in his eyes. I missed it. "I trust you are well?"

Suddenly I was grateful he hadn't showed up a few months ago, or I would have to lie. "As well as I can be. And you?"

"I am now. There was… a family matter I had to attend to. This was why I had to take leave."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir." I felt a little uncomfortable about him sharing his personal life with me, but I guessed that he wouldn't have done it unless he wanted to. "Is everything okay now?"

"Well, it's getting there." His tone was sort of melancholic, but confident.

"Are you back at some point this semester, then?"

"If I am, I will be in shape, so perhaps you shouldn't hope for my return."

"I'm quite looking forward to it, sir," I laughed.

"What are you working on?"

"My research for Mr. Miller's course."

"Handel in London? Interesting course. Did you enjoy it?"

"It was great. I never wanted to finish it."

He smiled. "I'm sure you had a lot of help from a certain someone though. How is the lovely Miss Swan? Is she a prima ballerina yet?"

"No, not yet," I laughed. "She's doing well though."

"I'm glad to hear it. I remember how worried you both were about this arrangement."

"Let's put it this way. You should be grateful I wasn't your student last semester. But it's all fine now."

"That's good news." He paused, and his eyes were set on the written pages in front of me. Then he looked up at me, and his face was set into a contemplative grimace. "Have you considered what you were going to do once you get your Masters, Mr. Cullen?"

"I'm not… quite sure yet." With everything I had on my mind, this was one thing I thought I'd have plenty of time to think of later.

"Are you familiar with the doctoral program of the school?"

"Vaguely." I knew it was a two-year residency on a full-tuition scholarship, offered to outstanding students only. "Why do you ask?"

"I think you should consider it."

I blinked. He was still looking straight at me. Still serious. I half-waited for the punch line. When it didn't come, I just gaped at him. "Doctoral studies?"

"You have what it takes. You were – _are_ – one of my best students. You're a fine musician and your writing is superb. There is no reason why you wouldn't do well in the program. You don't have to stay here as a teacher afterwards, but it's a possibility as well. You might want to consider it."

I was still processing everything he just said, that when I realized he was awaiting some sort of a reply, I began to stammer. "I don't… I mean, I've never…"

"Think about it. And if you wish to apply, I'd love to give you a letter of recommendation."

Needless to say, I didn't do much work after that. Our conversation got my mind working. A part of me wanted to graduate already, to finish what had been left of my studies and then move on, but I knew as well as any other student in this school that no one's future was guaranteed, no matter how good we were. I didn't see myself struggling for a job out there, not one that would fit my skills. And I didn't want to end up in an office job just because I couldn't find one as a musician. Maybe Mr. Shapiro had a point. I did enjoy my research. And I loved the school. I'd never seen myself as a teacher before, because there was really no difference between being a teacher and being a performer. A teacher just had a smaller audience. But it was a steadier job than anything I might – or might not – find after graduation.

Later that evening, when I spoke with Bella, I was still distracted by this inner battle. Suddenly it was all I could think about. I couldn't shake it off. A part of me wanted to apply for the doctoral program on Monday morning before it was too late. The more cowardly part of me thought it could be put off, and maybe I shouldn't bother myself with it.

"So, is Mr. Shapiro coming back soon?" Bella asked me after I told her he'd asked after her.

"He's not sure yet. He said something about family emergency; I don't think he knows what's going to happen yet." I paused, wondering how to begin. Maybe if I talked to someone about it… She _was_ the right person to tell this to. She faced a similar dilemma almost a year ago. If anyone was competent to advise me on this, Bella was the one. "He, umm, got me thinking. About what I want to do next."

"What do you mean?"

"He said I should consider the doctoral program. I'm not sure if I'm cut out for it, but I can't stop thinking about it. I do need to consider what I want to do next, and let's face it, Bella, I'm not much of a performer. Staying in Juilliard might be right for me."

It took her less time to process than I thought it would. "You know what, I think that's a really good idea."

"You're not just saying that because you're biased, are you?"

"No, I just like the idea of telling people my boyfriend is in the doctoral program in Juilliard." But there was a smile in her voice, so I knew she was teasing. "Seriously, Edward, no one can do this better than you. Haven't you told me a few days ago how sorry you'd be once you handed in this paper?"

"It sounds so dorky when you put it this way," I moaned.

"I think it shows the potential you've got. Maybe Mr. Shapiro is right and it's a direction to pursue. Maybe you should see if there are open positions for tutors. I bet they get extra credit for the doctoral program later on. Even if they don't, you can do it for one semester and see if you enjoy it. If you're good at that… well, it's not that different than teaching."

"I'll check it out."

She chuckled softly. "It just occurred to me that if you continued this research of yours, you could come over here and find more material."

As soon as she'd said it, something clicked. I just sat there speechless, grabbing the phone as if my life depended on it.

"Edward? Edward, are you there?"

"Bella, I love you," was all I managed to blurt out. My mind was whirling, my thoughts way ahead of me.

She let out a short, timid laughter. "Umm, what does that have to do with everything I've just said?"

"You are a _genius_!"

Still processing my most recent revelation, I lay it out to her now. I'd tell Claire it was necessary I'd go to London for the sake of my research, and that the material I was after was in the university she had gone to. Since she knew her way around, I'd convince her to come with me and help. Once we were there, Bella would arrange we would meet Nathan someplace. It was so simple, and yet so utterly brilliant at the same time. I didn't know how I hadn't thought about it before.

"Do you really think it would work?"

"I don't know," I said honestly; "but I hope so."

"Okay, let's say we're doing this. When?"

"Well," I started, mentally going over my schedule. "I have until after spring break to hand in a first draft, but I can rush things a little and hand it in before. I'm nearly done anyway."

"Show off," she laughed. "Spring break is April?"

"Yes." It would mean I'd have to pull out of the spring performance at work, but suddenly going to London seemed much more urgent. "What are you doing then?"

"We don't have any production scheduled until the middle of May. We will probably be rehearsing."

Despite the fact my previous visits had been disastrous, I hoped the fact she was available in the evenings would buy me more time with her. Maybe timing was the real problem in all those other times. "So how about it?"

"You, coming over? Really?"

"Unless you don't want me there." I was only partly joking. For one dreadful moment, insecurities sipped back in.

"May I remind you I'm still waiting for my Christmas gift?"

The sneer in her voice made me laugh. She sounded so… British. "You hate gifts, Bella."

"Not this one." Her voice was lower now, nothing but a sultry murmur.

I figured that as far as she was concerned, it meant April was as good as done.

xoxox

On Monday, I stopped at the administration office and grabbed a few leaflets about the doctoral program just in case I decided to pursue it after all. I thought I'd better ask for my parents' advice as well. I knew they would probably approve, but a part of me needed reinforcement, a proof that I wasn't doing some huge, fatal mistake.

And finally, there seemed to be a solution to the Nathan and Claire conflict, which was fortunate. I still wasn't sure how to approach Claire, so I stalled. I was such a bad liar, and it had to be done right or she would never listen. I asked her up for dinner, which she accepted. I cooked by myself that evening, and Claire praised me endlessly, and then made fun of me when I blushed.

"You're getting quite good at this," she gushed when we cleaned up. "I'm feeling sort of proud of myself."

"You should; you've done the impossible."

"Despite what you wish to believe, you weren't that hopeless a case to begin with." She hung the dish towel on a rack, and we moved to sit on the sofa. "So how is this paper going?"

"It's going well, actually, except…" Having Alice as an inspiration, I let my face fall, until I could feel Claire's eyes focusing on me with concern. "I might have to expand my research a bit," I said in my most reluctant voice.

"Aww, how come? Your school library isn't good enough?"

"You could say I've pretty much exhausted the school's resources."

She burst into laughter at that. "And the rest of the libraries in Manhattan, most likely."

I chuckled in response, and waited for her laughter to die out before I continued. "There's a book I'm trying to get access to, but it's not available online and no one would sell it, not even in second hand bookstores. Even my lecturer doesn't have it; that's how rare it is. I could only find it in one place."

"Where?"

I dared to look up. I hoped she couldn't see my heart hammering through my shirt. "The University of the Arts in London."

I didn't have a chance to revel at the fact my voice didn't quiver once when I saw her face fall. She looked as if I'd punched her. She said nothing.

"London is not really a place I want to go to, under the circumstances." She didn't know about Bella and I getting back together. With all the recent developments and revelations, and my uncertainty as for how to handle the situation, I thought it was best not to tell her. "So I thought… that if you came with me – you know, as my helper – you do know the campus better than me. We could get there and leave and it will be as if we had never…" My voice trailed off when I saw her shaking her head, slowly, but purposefully.

"I'm sorry, Edward, I can't. If it were any other place, I would have. I just can't go back there."

"But you wouldn't be going alone. I'll be there the whole time. We don't have to go for long, either."

"I can't," she said again, looking genuinely scared. Maybe this wasn't such a brilliant idea after all. She looked as if she was about to cry. I couldn't keep lying to her when she was in this state. I would only end up hurting her and do more damage than had already been done. I had to find another tactic.

"Look, Claire, here's the thing," I said before I could think better of it. Bella and I had never agreed to keep it a secret. Maybe if I told her the truth… "You _need_ to come with me. You have no choice."

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "I've made my choice a long time ago; I'm not going to – "

"Remember that day a month ago when you told me about that baby you left?"

The words were harsher while spoken. I saw her flinch, and immediately regretted it. Before I managed to apologize, though, she nodded, her eyes barely meeting mine.

"Aren't you curious to see what she looks like?" I whispered, my tone gentler now. I had to do this carefully or I'd ruin this chance as well. And if I did, it would be the end of our perfect plan.

"It doesn't matter," she whispered back. The defeat in her voice was heart-wrenching.

I just sat there in momentary loss, but I couldn't accept defeat. And then, a voice at the back of my mind reminded me it wasn't completely hopeless yet. "I want to show you something," I said. Without waiting for her response, I retrieved my laptop from the coffee table and placed it on my lap. I could feel her eyeing me from the corner of my eye as I logged into my email account. I ignored an email I'd just received, searching for Bella's name in my inbox. Just when I was about to click on it, Claire had spotted it too.

"Bella? Since when do you guys – "

I looked up at her. "We made up," I confessed; "about a month ago."

She seemed surprised, as I'd expected her to be. "You haven't said anything."

"I know. I… we sort of made up… because of you."

That puzzled her. "Me?"

"That story you told me a month ago."

"I don't understand."

"Claire, I…"

For a moment I was terrified. I wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do. My mind suddenly wandered to Alice, and how furious Bella and I had been with her when we revealed her scheme to set us up. How different was what we were trying to do now to what she had done? It wasn't just a childish game; these were people's lives we were trying to manipulate. After the way we'd treated Alice, wouldn't it be sort of hypocritical of us to do pretty much the same thing for someone else? Was it really our place to intervene?

But then I decided I was in too deep. I'd already said too much. It was too late to chicken out. "Look, there's no easy way to do this." With that, I shut my eyes, held my breath, and clicked on Bella's email, hoping for the best.

Although I couldn't see her reaction with my eyes closed, I could definitely hear it, a combination of a gasp and a sob. When I dared to open my eyes, she was staring at the screen with her mouth slightly open. Her eyes were gleaming with tears. She hadn't scrolled down the page, and it was still frozen on the first photo, the one of Nathan and Emily.

"Is this a joke?" She seemed to be addressing no one in particular. Some tears fell onto her cheeks now, but she didn't seem aware of them. Her gaze was still set on the photo.

"That's him, right? The man you told me about?" But I didn't need her to say the words. It was all there in her reaction.

"How did you – "

"I sort of put two and two together. He's the one who… I mean, the one I thought Bella was cheating on me with." It sounded so far-fetched now. I couldn't believe I'd actually thought that at the time. "I saw them when I was over there on Christmas, so when you told me the rest of the story – "

"Whoa, _what_? You _saw_ them?"

"Briefly. I didn't figure out it was them until you mentioned a baby. Look at her hair. It was impossible not to…"

But she wasn't listening to me anymore. Her attention was set on the photo again. Her expression was a tough one to make sense of. There were too many emotions there at once.

"There's more, if you scroll down a little," I said gently. I didn't want to interrupt her moment, but if this was her daughter, I was anxious for her to see more.

Her fingers were shaking when she browsed through the rest of the photos. A gasp escaped her when she reached the third one. "She dances."

"She does. That's how she met Bella."

She looked up at that, as if she hadn't made the connection until then. "Does Bella…"

"She met them a few weeks after she arrived at London. They became really close. They helped her a lot to adjust, she says." I smiled a little, and tried to keep my focus. "Bella got her those shoes," I added, nodding towards the pair of purple slippers Emily wore.

The last picture was of Bella. I let my eyes focus on her smiling face, her slightly wide eyes, as if she was taken by surprise. She looked so beautiful, so happy. I didn't want to remember the hurt in her eyes when I left her apartment on Christmas. This was the face I wanted to remember her by.

"She looks nothing like I'd imagined."

It took me a second to realize she wasn't referring to Bella. By the time I meant to respond, she was already staring at the first picture again. This time her eyes were all for him. "He looks happy," she mused, and I wasn't sure I was supposed to respond to that.

"Bella says he is. But he's lonely, Claire. He misses you. Both of them do."

It took her a long moment, but eventually her eyes met mine. "There's no research, isn't there?"

It was pointless to lie. She seemed to know the answer already. "No," I admitted sheepishly. "Look," I said more urgently, and placed the laptop on the coffee table again. I saw her hold back a protest, but I didn't stop. "Here's your chance to make things better."

"About million things can go wrong," she protested.

"Gee, Claire, when did you start to sound like me?" I chuckled, and became serious again. "But what if it goes right?"

"What if I get there and he won't listen?"

"I really doubt he'll do that, Claire."

"What if he doesn't take me back?"

"What if he does?"

"Then she will resent me. And she has every right to."

"She won't. She's still waiting for you to come back."

She fixed her gaze on the screen again, where Emily's face remained, grinning straight at Bella, on the other side of the camera. I thought about all the things Bella had told me about her, all the things I could now pass forward to Claire, if she wanted me to. With everything I'd known, it hardly felt like enough. I was sure I was unable to fill in a seven-year gap.

"When…" She faltered, and cleared her throat. "I'm assuming you would go to see Bella whether or not I tag along?"

"Yes. On April. During the spring break. It gives you about a month to get used to the idea," I offered her a weak smile. Slowly, she returned it, but said nothing. I didn't want to press her. Already, I was pushing my limits.

"And if it doesn't work out, do you think she'll let me crash on her sofa?"

"I'm sure that apartment has a spare room you could use," I laughed, feeling somewhat lightheaded. "Does that mean you'll do it?"

She didn't reply. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, her gaze a combination of awe and fear. It was so easy to picture her standing there next to them in the photo. They would make a beautiful family.

"Does he know?"

"No. you weren't supposed to know either. I sure hope Bella is doing better than I do over here," I laughed sort of nervously, suddenly hating myself for interfering in something that wasn't really my business. "Look," I tried again, giving her my most pleading gaze. It worked well on others; there was no reason why it wouldn't work on her. "You've done so much for us and you don't even realize it. Let us do something for you. Let us fix this."

"Okay."

It wasn't higher than a whisper. I blinked. "What?"

The tiniest smile curled on her lips now. "I said, okay. Let's do this. But it'd better work, because I don't like being a third wheel."

She couldn't hide her smile, a proper one, now. I returned it. "You're doing the right thing, Claire."

But her attention was already diverted by the photos again.

xoxox

I hardly slept that night, my mind being too alert. I didn't call Bella to tell her right away, because by the time Claire had left, it was too late to do so. I kept checking on the time, anxious to call her already. At half passed three, I grabbed the phone and dialed. It would be after eight on her end and I knew she would be up by then. I tried her cell phone first, knowing there was a chance she was either out or on her way there.

"Why, good morning, handsome."

I nearly dropped the phone. The voice was husky and familiar, but definitely not Bella's.

"Isn't it a little early on your end?"

Once I recovered from the initial shock, I started laughing. "Ivan, put Bella on the phone."

"Oh, but I'm afraid I can't do that. She's getting our coffee, and it may take a while before she is back. It's just you and me, pretty boy."

"Fine, I'll just call her back in a few – "

"Oh, no, no, there's no need to hang up. She'll be right back. Tell me, handsome, isn't it the middle of the night in New York? I'd say so, from the sound of your voice. So tell me, what are you wearing?"

"Uhh…"

"Ivan, who are you talking to?" Her voice was distinct now, teasingly outraged. Then there were rustling sounds, and finally her. "Hello?"

"Someone must get a restraining order against this guy," I laughed, fully awake now.

"Somehow he keeps getting away with it," she backfired, and I could see her so clearly, throwing a glare at him, one he'd brush off without flinching. "What are you doing up?"

"I can't sleep. And I've got some good news."

"Oh?"

"I talked to Claire tonight. It didn't work out as I planned; I had to tell her everything."

"How did that go?"

"Okay, I think." I paused, imagining how on the other end, she would be holding her breath. "I'm booking our flights tomorrow."

"You _are_?" she shrieked.

"Or later today," I corrected. "Before she chickens out." On the other end, there was no answer. "Bella? Are you there?"

"I'm here. I only have one question."

"What, sweetheart?"

"Why can't you come next _week_?"

"Patience is a virtue, Bella," I chided her. Relief was overwhelming. "I'll call you when I know more, okay? Now go have that coffee before you collapse during rehearsals."

"Fine," she said, and I knew her voice well enough to know she was pouting.

"I love you."

"Me too." Her reply was sort of rushed, so I assumed Ivan was still watching her.

I hung up feeling lightheaded and more confident than I had in months. Claire was right. About million things could go wrong. But they wouldn't. Not this time.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty Seven – Bella**

It had been a while since Edward and I had stumbled over the way to bring Nathan and Claire back together. Revelation was still overwhelming. It felt as if the solution had always been there under our noses; I couldn't figure out how we hadn't thought about it before. I couldn't get that conversation out of my mind, not so much because of that part, but rather because of the thing that had led to it. Edward being offered the doctoral program in Juilliard had set a whole new dilemma just when I thought things could finally work out.

"It's not that I'm not excited for him," I told Nathan when we met for coffee. "I'm really proud of him. He can do really well in this program. It's just…"

"It's just that you really like it here," he completed when my voice trailed off. I looked up at him in shock. His observation was spot on, although I was pretty sure I'd never told him anything about it. He just smiled sort of sheepishly at my astounded expression. "I didn't think you were aware of the number of times you told me what Philippa told you, about them wanting to keep you here."

I flushed, realizing how vain I must have sounded, telling him this over and over again. I sulked as guilt washed over me. "It's selfish."

"It's human."

"I got my chance; isn't it fair he'll get his?"

"Of course, but at the price of throwing away everything you've achieved so far?"

"I can't take another year of this." My voice was quiet but resolute. Being away from him was something I didn't want to experience ever again.

"In that case, you'll have to learn to compromise."

"Meaning?"

"Let him apply, go home and join another company, or…" His brow furrowed thoughtfully. "If it's doctoral studies he wants, he could perhaps transfer."

"What, here?"

"Why not? There are some good institutions that will be happy to take him in if he's as gifted as you say he is. I know a few people at the academy; I could probably throw a good word on his behalf. And this way you'll be able to stay with the company."

"I don't know," I said, biting my lip. It sounded perfect, but undoable. Edward's reluctance to follow me here in the first place didn't revolve just around school. If he was worried about his family a year ago, there was not much chance that would change now.

"There's no harm in asking," Nathan said gently, shaking me out of my reverie. "You won't know for sure until you do. There's always a compromise."

His words lingered at the back of my mind when he drove me home. It sounded so easy, so simple, but I knew compromises had normally been of a different nature. It wasn't that I wasn't willing to make sacrifices for Edward, because he'd done so much for me, and I felt committed to reciprocate that. If going back to New York for good was what it took for him to pursue an academic career, I owed him as much. But a part of me feared that if I was back, I wouldn't be able to find a job so fast, and that despair would eventually drive me to do something else entirely. I was so lucky to literally stumble into this job as soon as I graduated. Most of my friends were still searching, auditioning, struggling. If I gave up my position here, who was to promise I wouldn't end up joining my former classmates? The possibility scared the hell out of me.

I tried to push those fears away for the time being. I didn't want to dwell on it now, when there were other things to worry about. I'd see Edward soon, and working things out between us was top priority for me, after I nearly lost him. He left me a message while I was at rehearsals the other day, saying that his flight to London was booked. He was going to spend his entire spring break – about ten days – here. The thought made my heart lift. April, although less than a month away, seemed too far now. I smiled to myself when I entered the building and opened my mailbox. I couldn't wait to see him.

The mailbox was empty apart for a small card that lay there upside down. Just a random commercial, I thought, about to turn away from it, when it suddenly dawned on me what photo it was. I snatched it with a gasp, and laughed at my own childish reaction. There was no reason to get so excited – it was only a postcard, after all – and yet I was. It was a photo of the amusement park in Coney Island, the one I'd planned to take him to nearly a year ago on his birthday. I still meant us to go there, when…

I shook my head and turned the card over, determined not to sink back into my previous thoughtful mood. I focused on his handwriting instead, thinking how ridiculous it was of me to miss it.

_This is just to remind you that not everyone loathes birthday gifts, and you still owe me one._

He didn't write anything else, apart for my name and address, not his name, or _love_, or _I miss you_, but he didn't have to. It was all there in this one line, somehow. I held it close to my heart for a moment before I went upstairs, with the postcard still clutched tightly in my hand.

xoxox

"I just got your postcard," I told him while we were talking later that night.

"Oh, I was wondering about that," he laughed. "I bought it a while ago and never got a chance to send it. I found it on my desk the other week while I was cleaning up – "

"You were cleaning up?" I echoed incredulously. I'd always done most of the housework at home, and from a good reason. An involuntary shiver went through me. "Should I be very afraid for the apartment?"

He scoffed. "Despite of the little faith you have in me, I still know a thing or two about housekeeping."

"Excuse me, I happen to have a great deal of faith in you," I replied, amused at the offense in his tone. "I just know whom I'm dealing with here. Remember the time you attempted to do the laundry?" _I_ surely did. I was sorting out the items and had to leave for a class. The washing machine contained nothing but white items; there were a few colorful ones in a basket I left on the floor. Somehow one of the items in the basket had found its way in the washing machine during my absence. Needless to say, everything was washed blue, including a new set of satin, cream-colored linen. Whenever Edward had wanted to do the laundry himself since then, all I had to do was remind him of that incident.

"That was _one_ time, and it wasn't my fault your new, blue top ended up in the washing machine!"

"How did it end up in the washing machine in the first place is the question."

"You left it in the basket; how was I supposed to know you meant to wash it by hand?"

It was a long time argument, and a pointless one as well. I just giggled, knowing I couldn't win this one.

"_Anyway_, I sent that postcard over two weeks ago; I thought it got lost."

"No, it's here." My previous contemplative mood got around the light tone of the conversation. Slowly, I was sinking back into it.

"Well, I hope the message got through. I expect you to make good on your promise… well, next year, since it seems we're going to lose the chance this year too."

I laughed distractedly. "I won't forget, don't worry."

"Maybe if there are good amusement parks in London, I'll come over then too."

"I have no idea, I'll ask."

"Oh, I was talking to Alice the other day. It looks like she'll be staying in New York around the time you're back."

"That's great." I flinched. My voice sounded too empty, too laconic. So much for not thinking about it, I scolded myself.

And sure enough, he was on to my attempt. "Are you okay, Bella?"

"I'm fine."

"You're sort of… quieter than normally."

"I'm just… distracted." I could deny and avoid it for now, but it was too heavy on my mind to hide from him. If this was what I wanted, he had a right to know. The sooner I'd tell him, the better. And Nathan was right. I'd never know unless I asked. "There's something I need to tell you and I'm not sure how." I cringed. It sounded remarkably like that day nearly a year ago, when I was offered to come here.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, I'm just…" I took a deep breath, and shook my head. I'd just let it out, I decided. "Can we discuss something? I'd appreciate it if you could begin by being open minded." I winced. Rather lame choice of words; it sounded too dramatic.

"Erm, sure?" He sounded almost scared.

"You're serious about this doctoral program, aren't you?"

"About applying? Yes, I think so. I talked to some people at school and they thought I had a good chance to get in. Emmett thinks I'm insane. He told me the other day I'd be the biggest idiot to willingly submitting myself to a couple of extra years at school. My parents think it's a good idea."

"What do _you_ think?"

"I think I want to try it." He cleared his throat. "Why do you ask?"

"I want to stay with the company," I blurted out before I could think of a gentler phrasing, suddenly extremely guilty for having to do this. "Philippa mentioned they might want to hire me for another year and I can't stop thinking about it."

On the other end, I heard him release a breath.

"Please don't be angry with me." The words were broken, thick with tears.

"I'm not – I think I sort of saw it coming." His voice was quiet, reserved, but not furious. Somehow it was worse. "Well, I… I can't tell you what to do, Bella. It's your choice."

"I need you to be okay with this."

"It's going to be difficult, but if this is what you want, we can manage. School will keep me busy enough, and we could…"

"You don't understand," I cut him off a little bluntly, but didn't apologize. I took another breath to compose myself. "I can't do this without you."

"I don't think I follow."

"We don't have to make it a long distance thing. There's another option."

"What other option?" he asked slowly, as if he was bracing himself for my next words.

"If you come to study here." I closed my eyes as soon as the words were out. Selfish.

For the longest time, there was silence, and then he let out this heavy sigh. "If I told you I really wanted Juilliard and asked you to come back and join some random, unknown ballet company, would you do it?"

When he put it this way, it didn't sound as simple as I had envisioned it earlier, or Nathan, for that matters. I knew he was right. I would have done it for him because I owed him as much, but it would never feel right. Defeat overpowered me. I hung my head in shame. I released a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid idea. Forget it."

"I'm not as adventurous as you," he chuckled fondly, and there was something amazingly tender about his voice; "It's tough for me, starting over in a new place. Besides, I was offered the program here, not overseas. I don't know if anyone takes me over there."

It made sense, all of it, but I refused to accept defeat. There must be a way where we could both win. "Isn't there any way around it?"

"We could… keep things are they are," he suggested, but the hesitation in his voice was clear.

"It almost ruined us," I protested.

"Well, we should be wiser by now." I didn't have an answer for that. "It's not ideal, but we can do this. Maybe when you're more established in the company they'd let you off every now and again; I could come over on holidays. We'll be fine."

My silence was one of doubt.

"Look, I'm handing in my application next week. Let's see if it even comes through before we bother ourselves with it, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered, but the reply was automatic. Not thinking about it seemed impossible.

"Besides, there are more pressing issues to worry about just now. We should focus on making things work until April first."

"I can't wait to see you." It felt as if everything would be better once I did.

"I know. Me too." When he spoke next, his tone was lighter. "I had dinner at Emmett's place last night. You wouldn't believe what the baby did."

I laughed softly. Clearly, he was trying to sidetrack me. "What?"

And expectantly enough, he plunged into a tale about baby Jade, and it worked. It wasn't until much later when doubts sipped back, but I was determined not to let it bother me now. Edward was right. There were more important things to worry about now. There was nothing I wanted more than him getting here.

xoxox

The remaining time until our reunion went sluggishly, torturously slow. It was a rather dead season, so rehearsals weren't too busy or intense. The principal dancers were leaving for a convention in a few days, and the preparations for our new productions were due only after their return, a couple of days before Edward and Claire's arrival.

In the meantime, in between workshops we were assigned to do, I used the rest of the time for some work of my own. I hardly had time for my personal training because of the holiday pressure, but I was going to make up for it now. I really needed some time for myself.

It was our last day together, and although the principals were going to be away for merely days, everyone else was sad to part with them. It had never ceased to amaze me how close we all were. It was like saying goodbye to a family member. After an improvised party of red wine and crisps, I chose a vacant studio and got to work.

We were going to perform _Swan Lake_ in June, and so I felt like trying out the little I remembered from what Madame La Pierre had shown me when she assigned Odette to me in our recital. Odette's Variation was the piece I remembered most clearly, so I started with that one. Although it had been a year since I danced it, it was as if the choreography was somehow branded onto my feet. I did the Black Swan Variation next, just to see if I could handle it. I loved the exhilaration in the music and choreography, the lightheadedness the endless spinning had given me, especially towards the end of the piece. I bet this was how flying felt like.

I didn't realize I wasn't alone until I heard the clapping once the music died.

"Don't," I laughed, blushing, as Ivan walked into the studio.

"That was lovely, hon."

"Thanks," I breathed, and caught the towel he tossed at me.

"Is this your first time dancing it?"

"I did Odette's Variation at school. My ballet teacher used to work on some of the other solos with me."

"Your technique is really good. You know, I've never seen you dance before. Not leading solos, anyway. You'll do well as a principal."

"I'm years away from that," I protested. The concept alone felt inconceivable, terrifying.

He had this contemplative look I'd come to dread. The music was still playing – I hadn't turned it off, and a new track came on. He listened to it in concentration. It was Pas de Deux of the third act, where Prince Siegfried danced with the black swan Odile. "I wonder," he started slowly, and looked up at me. "Have you ever danced this piece before?"

"Umm, no, I haven't."

His grin was wide as he reached out his hand for me. "Shall we dance, then, my lady?"

After quite a lot of persuasion on his side, I relented. I remembered the piece vaguely from watching a DVD of the performance a few times. He lay out the basic choreography for me anyway, stepping into the center of the room to demonstrate the more complicated combinations. The variation was supposed to feature a third dancer who had a rather minor role in the variation, so Ivan adjusted it so it would fit for two people instead. And then the next thing I knew, we were dancing.

I'd never danced with a partner so confident before. Never once had I fretted he would forget a beat or fail to catch me. If I made a mistake, he anticipated it and improvised, never once stopping to make fun of me. On the contrary; his expression remained sealed, frozen, as if we had an audience. I hated to think so arrogantly, but we were actually quite good together. I couldn't help wondering why we'd never done it before.

When the final sounds of the variation faded into silence, he supported me as I slowly straightened up. His grip was strong yet gentle. I felt this satisfied grin curling on my lips. He didn't return it, and for a moment I feared it was all in my head. He kept my hand in his as he brought it to his lips. "They will be fools to let you go," was all he said. The seriousness in his blue eyes, the sincerity of the statement, made me miss him already.

xoxox

On the day of Edward's arrival, I was a mess. His text woke me up – half an hour after the time my alarm was supposed to go off. I became so distracted the night before, speaking to him when he was on his way to the airport, that I'd forgotten to set it. Also, since it had been turned on all night, the battery was nearly empty and therefore useless. I wouldn't have a chance to charge it before rehearsals. I decided to take it with me anyway.

The content of Edward's text didn't add up to my already giddy mood: _flight was delayed, just boarding. Should be there around three your time. Don't worry. See you soon, love x_ I tried to force myself to calm down, but it only made things worse. He sent it at about seven my time this morning, which meant about two hours' delay, as they were supposed to leave on midnight New York time. I hoped this was where our bad luck ended – for them, with their delayed flight, and for me with my phone. We'd had enough of bad luck for a lifetime. I tried not to think too much about it when I jumped out of bed and started getting ready for the day.

One task in particular was making me even giddier than possible. I'd put it off for as long as I could, but eventually, right before I left, I swallowed my fear and called Nathan. I was terrified about messing up this part of the plan. I'd been good all this time, lying properly to his face without blushing or stammering once. But now, this moment, was crucial. One wrong move and he would expose my lie. Sure, he might not realize exactly what I'd been up to, but he was intuitive as hell, and today, it wasn't an advantage. I didn't want him to even suspect something was wrong.

Well, apart for the story I was going to sell him.

I knew he was having an early start today after dropping Emily at her friend's house, so I tried his office first. I felt bad about what I was going to do, but I shrugged the uncertainties away. It was for a good cause.

"Nathan?" I made sure there was a hopeless quiver in my voice, and I guess I did well because panic on his end was instant.

"Bella? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I haven't slept all night. I tried to reach you at home, but – "

"What happened?"

I'd never been the actress, but right now our scheme was depended on it. I let out a shaky breath and made sure he heard it. "Edward – we had this really nasty fight last night." I paused, and braced myself for my next words. "I think it's over."

"Are you home? I can be there in twenty minutes."

"_No_!" I said too quickly, caught myself, and put on my depressed façade again, hoping he wouldn't notice the change. "I have to go to rehearsals."

"Are you sure you can handle it? You don't sound – "

"It's our first rehearsal, I have to be there. Besides, if I stay home, I'll think about it, and I don't…" I sniffed, hoping it sounded as if I was crying. "Could you come over later?"

"Of course. Emily is spending the night at her friend's house." I let out a mental cheer. _Perfect_! "When do you want me to – "

"Half passed six," I cut him off, a little too urgently again.

"Alright. I'll see you later, then. Everything is going to be fine, Bella."

I sure hoped he was right.

xoxox

As I had told Nathan, we had our first rehearsal for the new production today. First we'd discuss the particulars of the production, like casting and the likes of it, and go over the performance's order scene by scene. The actual work on the choreography was scheduled for later today, or bright and early tomorrow. I was grateful for this fact because it was bound to leave me a bit of free time to be with Edward when he'd finally get here. First rehearsals had always been last hectic.

The morning passed in a giddy haze. Everyone was back from the convention just the previous day, so the atmosphere was light and gleeful, like school on the first day back. Someone brought pastries and coffee, and we had another improvised party with those. It was easy to get sucked into this without dreading what was expecting me later today. All I could think of was Edward's text, and whenever I did, my gaze wandered automatically to one of the clocks around.

The original plan was that Edward and Claire would arrive at early noon and meet me here so I could give them the keys to my place, but with their flight – and therefore their landing – being delayed, I thought I'd meet them outside just as they got here. However, since Vlad decided it would be better if we started on rehearsals the next day after all, we were dismissed earlier than I'd anticipated, just a short time after their estimated landing time. The airport was about forty minutes away on the Tube, so even if I hurried, there was a good chance I'd miss them. I couldn't go home because they were supposed to meet me here, and I couldn't reach them and inform them with any change of plans because my phone had no battery.

It was cold outside, and getting colder still as there was a rainstorm coming our way. I chuckled darkly to myself when I watched the gathering clouds through the window. A storm was definitely due; in more ways than one.

I needed something to keep me busy, and so I headed to one of the smaller studios on the second floor. I had one of Edward's compilations in my bag, and I put it on now, hoping it would work its magic on me. I did a little bit of warming up before I plunged into a combination I'd been working on with Ivan a week ago. Closing my eyes, I let the music fill me, and focused on its steady rhythm, the one my heart was slowly adjusting to. Edward would be here soon, I reminded myself, and an involuntary smile found its way to my lips at that. It wasn't long now. And as the music carried me away, the rest of the world ceased to exist. Nothing else mattered: breathing, dancing, waiting.

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**A/N: thanks for checking back, everyone! New videos are up on my profile – more _Swan Lake_ variations, for the curious ones among you! Reviews are love – thanks so much and keep it up!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty Eight – Edward**

"What time is it?"

Claire had already set her watch to London Time, and she glanced at it now before she looked back up at me. "A bit before four."

"Damn it," I muttered. This visit couldn't have had a worse start. It began with a ridiculous delay in New York, continued with an incredibly bumpy flight that left me a little queasy and nauseated, and ended here, almost three hours after our initial arrival time, in an airport that had never felt so packed before, not even on Christmas. And to top it all off, Bella wasn't answering her phone. I tried it as soon as I could get a line, and up until now, when we were about to go underground, but to no avail. I knew she got my text last night because she replied to it, but it had been hours. There had not been a sign from her since.

"Calm down. She knows we're late. We have the address, it's going to be fine."

"Fine. Yeah, sure," I managed, suddenly breathless. I eyed the entrance to the Tube a little uncertainly. Normally I wouldn't be bothered about getting in there. But I wasn't at my best today and it felt as if the small space would close in on me if we walked in there.

There was a tug at my arm. Claire's eyes were intent on mine. "I find it a little ironic that _I_ have to egg _you_ on, don't you say?" Her voice was soft, soothing. "Come on, think about it this way. The faster we move, the sooner you can see her."

I stalled, then nodded and let her tow me after her. I didn't even have to guide her. She knew exactly where she was going, even though it had been years since she had last been here. She got us on the right train, and endured my tensed silence during the forty minutes' ride to central London. It was strange to think that forty minutes was all that separated Bella and I now. Strange and wonderful and absolutely terrifying, somehow all at the same time.

xoxox

Since today was Bella's first day at rehearsals, we meant to meet her there. She'd given me the address to Markova House, the company's venue, and Claire and I followed her instructions carefully when we got off at Knightsbridge. Neither of us felt like getting lost so soon after our arrival. It would be a miserable ending to this extremely long day.

"This way," said Claire, heading over for a wide road that had to be Knightsbridge Street. She had Bella's directions memorized, and she looked up from time to time, to check the numbers on the top of each house as we passed it. It felt as if we were walking for hours, although it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. The street seemed endless. Claire, strangely as eager as I was, walked forward in long, determined strides; I was having hard time following her. I was too giddy to actually notice where I was going. I almost bumped into two streetlamps; she had to pull me back twice.

"Anything on the phone?" she threw a glance at me from over her shoulder.

I picked my cell phone again, tried Bella's number again, and hung up as soon as I got the answering service. "No. Nothing."

"Well, maybe her battery died. Maybe she didn't hear it ring. Maybe she forgot it at home."

"You're not helping," I pointed out, but my scowl had zero impact. Instead, she laughed at me.

"_Breathe_, Edward, you're going to give yourself a heart attack! Here we are, I think."

I looked up, and then around me, and suddenly realized the long street was gone. There were smaller buildings on each side of the street, the one we needed. Like the rest of them, the building was old-looking and made of red bricks. A few stairs led to the main entrance. I guessed we were in the right place, because the few people who sat outside looked like dancers. Claire took the note from my hand and compared it with the address on a nearby sign.

"Yup, definitely here."

I took my cell phone out again, but just looked at it. If she hadn't answered any of my other calls, was there a point to try again at all?

Claire's eyes followed mine, and she shook her head. "Let's just go in. Someone will know her," she said. Before I knew it, she was halfway towards the entrance. I hurried after her, not even stopping to appreciate the beauty of the building we'd just walked into. I was getting dizzy with childish excitement. I couldn't believe we were actually here, that I'd finally see her in a few minutes.

"She's upstairs," Claire informed me, glancing at a staircase over her shoulder. "This guy says he just saw her in one of the studios."

I just gaped at her helplessly, unable to even move.

"Edward, snap out of it," she laughed. She clearly found the whole situation exceptionally funny. I nodded feebly and followed her lead upstairs. She repeated the instructions the guy had just given her. Second floor to the right and down the hall. Some people were on their way downstairs, and we had to stop and sidle to let them through. I listened to their fast chatter absentmindedly. Their thick accent sounded like foreign language in my hazy state of mind. It still echoed in my ears as they walked passed us, as we reached the hallway of the second floor. I bet we looked strange to all of them, disheveled from our journey and still carrying our luggage. I didn't care. I just wanted to get there.

"This should be it," Claire said suddenly, nodding to a door in front of us. The hallway was quiet, and faint music came from inside the room. I knew the sounds – they were mine. She was still using those CDs I'd made for her years ago. My heart was thumping irregularly now. It felt as if it was going to burst. I locked my gaze with Claire's for a second. She nodded, grinning. I sucked in a huge breath, and stepped forward.

And sure enough, there she was, dancing to music I could hear only faintly, but knew by heart anyway. She looked, as cliché as it sounded, radiant. She had on a dance outfit I'd never seen before that literally took my breath away. It was black and short, and a skirt was sort of sewn onto it. Its spaghetti straps crossed on her back, which was completely bare other than that. I couldn't do much but gawk at her. She looked as if she'd been there for a while. The sheen of sweat on her forehead was visible even from a distance, and there were a few stray hairs at the back of her neck.

There was a poke on my side, which startled me. I threw Claire an irritated look. "I want to see," she said, half-bouncing. I rolled my eyes and sidled a bit to let her peek through the window on the door. Bella, her arms stretched to her sides, had just begun to spin one her toes from one end of the room to the other, time after time after time, in this one fluid motion that had always made me wonder how she wasn't getting sick. Claire let out a whistle. "Pretty!"

"Shh, don't disturb her," I scolded her, jokingly grabbing her waist to get her away from the door. I allowed myself to stare a little longer, enjoying the opportunity to observe her unwatched, like I'd done at school in more than one occasion. I loved watching her dance; I loved the look on her face, like everything else around her ceased to exist. Despite the exertion, there was this serenity about her when she danced; it was like nothing else mattered.

"I think she'll like it much more if you'll make your presence known," said Claire, and her eyes were gleaming mischievously as she nodded at the door.

There was this sudden swell of emotion within me – bliss, or relief, or maybe both. I was so excited my knees nearly buckled. I took another deep breath, and rapped on the small window. She spun to face the door as if the noise startled her. Her eyes widened for a split second, and then her face lit up as soon as our eyes met. I heard the door creaking shut behind me as I stepped in, still a little hesitantly. The next thing I knew she flung herself at me, giggling breathlessly as she nearly knocked both of us over. I wrapped my arms around her to steady her a second before we crashed against the door.

"Erm, do I know you from someplace?" I teased her, rubbing my nose with hers.

"Shut up and kiss me," she ordered, her lips inches from mine.

And I didn't care Claire was right outside and probably watching us. I didn't care someone might walk in or if Bella was hot or sweaty or uncomfortable. I didn't care of anything. I held her even tighter, practically crushing her against me, as our lips met halfway in the sweetest kiss we'd shared in months.

"Hi," she whispered, slowly pulling away. Her smile was blinding. It made me smile too.

"Hi, yourself," I replied, pressing my forehead to hers. She still had her arms around my neck, and she shifted a little so she could give me a hug. I lay my head against her shoulder, letting her heat engulf me. I could feel the remainders of the anger dissipate into dust in that long moment we stood there, just holding each other. Apparently, this was all it took.

Then, with what felt like reluctance, she pulled away. Her gaze averted to the window on the door, through which she could clearly see Claire, pacing in front of the shut door. Bella's eyes were wide with astonishment. She'd never seen Claire before, not even in a picture. Now, she seemed to be noticing what I had, a few weeks back. When our eyes met again, I knew we had the same thought in mind. The resemblance was just too obvious to be missed. I nodded, and gently took her hand as I led her out of the room.

Claire stopped her pacing as soon as I opened the door and let Bella through. Her smile was a bit uncertain when her eyes met mine, then Bella's. "It's about time you two meet," I said, guiding Bella forward. "Claire, this is Bella."

"Finally in the flesh," Claire smiled as she shook Bella's hand. "I heard so much about you, almost _too_ much, I'm afraid. Sometimes I just wish he'd shut up about it," she added, flashing an impish grin at me.

"Gee, thanks, Claire," I rolled my eyes.

"I heard a lot about you, too." Bella's voice was merely a whisper. Her smile was careful, guarded, but she couldn't take her eyes off Claire. She still looked in awe. "You look exactly like her." Then she snapped out of it, and a nervous laugh escaped her. "I'm sorry, I just… did you guys just get here? We finished early and my phone is useless – my battery died ages ago – I forgot to charge it the other night and – "

Claire chuckled and gave me this know-all look. I shook my head.

"I didn't realize it was so late. Give me ten minutes to change."

"When are we meeting him?" I saw my question made Claire giddy, so I kept my eyes on Bella.

"Half passed six at my place. It'll give you time to freshen up a bit," she replied, and her eyes were all for Claire. At the beginning, in our first conversations after we had made up, she resented Claire for leaving the way she had, and I couldn't blame her. She had witnessed the damage Claire's absence inflicted, for both Nathan and Emily. It was obvious she would sympathize with them, being on their side, just like I had sympathized with Claire. But now I saw understanding in her eyes, compassion even, and I embraced it. I wanted the two of them to get along, despite the circumstances that had brought us together.

"Sure, that sounds great," Claire replied, looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

Bella nodded, half to us, half to herself. Then she looked up at me, and flashed a heart melting smile at me. "Ten minutes," she said again.

"Don't be long," I whispered in her ear as I dropped another kiss on her forehead. She grinned, ruffled my hair, and walked back into the studio to get her stuff. Then she stepped out carrying her bag and her music, and disappeared down the hall where the showers probably were. I began pacing back and forth, much to Claire's amusement. I had this horrible feeling that I wasn't really awake yet, that we were still on the plane, that I didn't actually hold her.

Bella returned a little over ten minutes later, buttoning her coat as she walked towards us. Her hair was down, her eyes still gleaming, her lips parted in a tiny smile. She took Claire's suitcase despite her protest, and led the way to her apartment. I fought my reluctance to go back there. The place carried too many bad memories for me, but I was intent on leaving all of them behind. This was a new beginning. I wouldn't leave this time, no matter what happened.

We didn't speak much on the way there, all of us being too weary. I wanted badly to pull Bella closer, to hold her hand, at least, but I didn't think it would be fair on Claire. If tables had been turned, I would have felt awful by any display of affection. So instead, I relied on her voice, like I'd done so many times during her absence. She and Claire were speaking; Claire asked her about things she remembered from her last stay here. I noticed how she was avoiding questions about both Nathan and Emily. She focused on discussing the forecasted storm instead. I didn't want to begin to imagine what thoughts were running in her head just now.

I stole another glance at Bella, snug and warm in her purple coat, leading the way. She didn't seem bothered by the weather, which amused me. I knew how strongly she felt against the weather in Forks, and it was funny to see her react differently to practically the same weather here. She really did like it here, I mused, as I listened to her telling Claire how she got the apartment she was staying at. My mind wandered to the conversation we had a few weeks ago. It was almost as if she belonged here. I couldn't take it from her. Maybe there _was_ a way to compromise.

"The spare bedroom is second door down the hall, and the bathroom is right across from it," Bella told Claire once we were in her apartment. She looked a little hesitant, but she took her suitcase and disappeared down the hallway. Bella sort of stared after her even after she was gone.

I came over to her and took her hand. I didn't feel comfortable to do more than that, with Claire in the other room. Bella looked up at me and smiled, but the motion was tense. "Are you nervous?" I asked her.

"Aren't you?" The question was incredulous.

"A little," I admitted.

"How is she?"

"She's scared. I really hope it goes well because I don't want to think what happens if he – "

"Don't," she cut me off. "It's going to be fine."

But even she didn't seem certain of it.

"I'll, umm, put your suitcase in our room," she told me then, meeting my eyes shyly. Our room. It had nice ring to it. I nodded and slowly released her hand.

With both of them gone, I slowly took off my coat and placed it on the back of the sofa. I walked over to the window and looked outside at the darkening sky. A lightning flickered across the sky, followed by another a few seconds later. I listened carefully. There was no sound of thunder, but the lightning kept coming, so I assumed it meant the storm was near. I looked over my shoulder at the dark living room and sighed. Under any other circumstances, I could live here with her. This could be our place. Maybe I was being ridiculous about insisting on wanting to continue my studies in Juilliard. Maybe a change would be good for me.

A shuffle of feet made me turn away from the window. Claire walked back into the living room, still hesitant, as if she didn't feel at home here. She was wearing the same clothes, but she seemed less unkempt. I thought she even put some makeup on, which was rare. "Are you okay?" I asked her as she crossed the room to join me.

"I guess so." She said that, but she didn't seem to mean it. She looked genuinely scared now.

"It's going to be fine," I promised her, unintentionally repeating Bella's word. I took her hand gently in mine and gave it a little squeeze.

I happened to look away from Claire, and suddenly Bella was there, watching us with emotion I couldn't recognize. She looked away the second our eyes met, as if she didn't want to be caught in the act, but I knew what she saw. I let go of Claire's hand in an instant.

But before I could even go to her, to say anything to break the suddenly awkward silence, a knock came at the door.

Claire gasped at the sound, and staggered a little. I stood in the middle of the room, torn between going to stand beside my girlfriend and the need to comfort the woman who had become my best friend. Bella also froze in place at the sound. I couldn't really tell in the dimming light, but it looked as if she went pale. Then she exhaled slowly, and looked up at Claire. I braced myself for the hostility I'd expected to find in her eyes after what she'd just walked in on, but there was none.

"So are we doing this?" she asked quietly, her eyes still on Claire.

"Give me a second," Claire breathed, closed her eyes, then opened them. "Yes. Let's do it."

It took Bella exactly two seconds to absorb this. Taking another breath, she walked over to the door. While she was turning the main lights on, Claire moved to stand behind me. I didn't have time to question her clearly defensive position, because Bella was already by the door, messing with the latch. I let my gaze focus on the door, hoping it would distract me from Claire's labored breathing over my shoulder. I didn't dare to turn and face her. I feared of what I might find.

My own reaction caught me off-guard. It felt as if my breath was literally knocked out of me when I saw him on the doorway. It made everything more… real, in a way, to see him in the flesh and not through a photo. Last time was so brief it didn't count. Behind me, I could sense Claire tense as well. Bella threw another quick glance at us before she opened the door slightly wider, yet not all the way.

Even from across the room, and with most of the door still separating us from his full view, I could see his eyes were full of concern as they met hers – I didn't know the story she had told him to get him here, but it seemed to be working. He kissed her cheek, still unaware of our presence, and I made an effort to contain my envy this time. I thought I knew exactly how she felt a moment ago, when she saw me holding Claire's hand. I shrugged it all off though. This was not about us, and it was nothing like that.

"Thanks for coming. Crazy lightning storm, huh?"

His forehead cringed, as if he caught the edge of panic in her voice. "I'm just glad I beat the rain." I was surprised he didn't notice us standing there, just a short distance away. He gave her his full attention. "How are you holding up?"

Bella seemed as if she wanted to answer, but changed her mind and heaved a long sigh. "I'm perfect. Nothing's wrong, I'm just… I needed to have you here alone."

"I don't understand." His voice was tender. Like I saw him do the other time, he leaned towards her as he spoke. "You said you and Edward – "

"Edward is here," she said, sidling ever so slightly. She threw me a glance. I flashed a tiny smile at her in return.

Nathan, still focused on the reason he'd come here, missed all that. "Here? In London?"

This time when she looked over her shoulder, his eyes followed hers. Our eyes met briefly. I nodded in wordless acknowledgement, hoping I didn't seem hostile to him. He hadn't noticed Claire yet; she was still half-hiding behind me with her head bowed. His eyes were already back on Bella's. His brow furrowed with what seemed like puzzlement.

"He, umm… brought someone we think you might want to see."

Claire's head whipped up at that; she looked terrified again. Unfortunately it meant he didn't have time to absorb Bella's statement. He saw her. His gasp was quite audible, even with half the room between us. He looked as if he was about to collapse. He held on to the doorway as if to support himself. He didn't say anything, not even her name. He just stared at her wide-eyed, looking as if he was trying hard not to fall apart.

There was a shift to my right as Claire stepped forward. "Nathan."

"You." He didn't seem able to say more. Then he looked at Bella. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn't be upset with her. But there was no hint of fury in his expression, just astonishment. "How…"

"I'll explain everything," Claire said, drawing his attention again. Suddenly courageous, she stepped a little closer and offered him a faint smile. "If you let me." It was part statement, part question. Her eyes were pleading on his. He just stood there, still on the doorway, rooted to place. I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him. I hoped I would never have to face such an inner battle, wanting so badly to get away from there, but at the same time, being unable to. He didn't seem able to leave, even if he wanted to.

"Come in." Bella's soft voice seemed to break some sort of a trance he'd been taken under. He blinked and nodded, still somewhat dazed, and then walked in. His eyes wandered from Claire to me and back to her. He didn't make any move towards Claire, but I hadn't really expected him to, yet. It was strange to admit it to myself, but he seemed as reserved as I had been. If I were him I would have been terrified to step in here.

Bella, who stalled by the door to get it locked, caught my eye and motioned to the sofa. Wordlessly, I guided Claire there. Nathan, after a moment of hesitation, followed us. Claire placed herself next to me on the sofa. Bella took the armchair across from us. Nathan slowly sat on the second armchair, a safe distance away.

"So," he started slowly, moving his eyes from Bella to me, "it isn't over?"

Bella smiled sheepishly. "I had to find something really good to get you here."

Before I could prepare myself for it, his eyes were on me again. "How did you…"

"I moved into their building this summer," Claire replied before I decided from which point of our acquaintance to begin. She glanced at me and smiled. I returned her smile, hoping to encourage her. "We sort of became friends."

It was hardly an explanation, but she didn't say anything further, and neither did he. He just kept watching her, as if he was expecting her to vanish. Then a dark chuckle escaped him as he shook his head. "I can't believe you're here."

"I think we're going to let you two talk," Bella said after a moment, and pinned me with a significant look as she got up. Nathan looked terrified by this statement. His eyes flew to meet Bella's, like a frightened child. Claire threw me a similar glance of distress when I left my seat, but this time Bella won. They needed their moment. I let her lead the way to the kitchen, struggling not to look back at the couple we were leaving behind.

I waited for her to turn on the lights and walk passed me. Outside, another lightning struck, followed by a faint noise of a thunder. I was grateful to be indoors. We just stood there for a moment, eyeing each other sort of shyly. Since we got here, I yearned for some alone time with her, and now when I got it, I wasn't sure what to do with it. I was too distracted by the couple in the other room to figure out how to handle our first real reunion.

"So," she started, smiling timidly.

"So," I echoed, suddenly feeling a little awkward. She laughed a little, as if she knew exactly how I felt. I moved forward at the same second she did. I let my fingers trail along her chin. She closed her eyes; I watched, transfixed, at the way her eyelashes fluttered against her skin. I brushed my thumb against her cheek. She slowly opened her eyes and let them meet mine again. I smiled at her, feeling new confidence, and leaned over. She grinned as if she knew what I was up to.

But before my lips so much as grazed hers, there was another flash of lightning, followed by the loudest roar of thunder I'd ever heard.

Bella shrieked and gripped at my shirt, instinctively burying her head in my chest. I laughed and slowly wrapped my arms around her as she began to giggle too. My heart was beating irregularly, but so was hers. Some way to break the ice. I held her to my chest, resting my chin on the top of her head. "I missed you," I said, and I could feel her clinging closer.

"I missed you, too."

Before I got here, I had this elaborated plan to get the past off my chest, to make another apology face to face. Now, however, while standing there with her in my arms, it seemed marginal, unnecessary. Words and promises wouldn't make things better. We had to work harder than that. But this time I thought we were capable of it.

Making tea was the perfect distraction from what was happening in the living room. Bella seemed as anxious as I was about how things were going, but neither of us was courageous (or rude) enough to eavesdrop. They didn't raise their voices once, and I didn't know if it was a good sign or an extremely bad one.

"I hope we're not going to get stuck here all evening," I joked after a glance at my watch. We had been in the kitchen for about twenty minutes now, and there was no life sign from either Claire or Nathan. Outside, the storm was building fast. It was cold in the kitchen, and my tee shirt didn't provide enough of a protection against the chill. I knew exactly where my coat was – on the back of the sofa where I'd left it earlier – but I couldn't go back to the living room to get it so long as they were there.

"We didn't hear the door so I guess he didn't leave. This has to be good, isn't it?" I shrugged, unsure. "Let's give them five more minutes."

"Fine," I said, and took a seat by the window. "Come here."

Her lips curled in that timid smile again as she came to sit on my lap. I wrapped my arms around her so she wouldn't fall. She was so warm; in the freezing room, it was comforting. She rested her head against my shoulder and we watched the raindrops slipping down the window. I ran my hand up and down her back in slow, gentle strokes. Every once in a while one of us would ask something, on which the other would answer in a word or two. The silence in between was comfortable. The storm seemed to be growing stronger. I didn't know how long we'd been sitting there; I might have fallen asleep without realizing it. After a while, Bella shifted, and slowly got up.

"I think it's safe to go back now."

"Okay," I nodded, and reached for her hand. Only halfway back to the living room, I realized we forgot the tea we'd prepared on the counter.

I didn't know what I'd expected to find. A hysterical Claire, maybe, smashed glass on the floor, carpets and curtains torn into shreds. Instead, they were sitting side by side on the sofa, speaking quietly, their heads nearly touching. They didn't seem aware of our reemergence; it was as if nothing else existed, the way I'd often felt with Bella around. They weren't sitting close enough for him to hold her, but then again, he didn't storm out either, so I guessed it wasn't entirely bad.

Both their heads whipped up when Bella cleared her throat. They both looked sheepish, and thankfully not mad at one another.

"I was just about to go and find you," Nathan told Bella, before he ran a hand through his hair. Hmm. We had much more things in common than I cared to admit. "We, umm… are going to move this conversation to my place."

At that, I let myself breathe again.

"But it's raining like crazy," Bella protested.

"The storm isn't so bad now," said Claire. The smile she exchanged with Nathan told me everything I needed to know. Everything was going to be alright. Bella seemed to realize it too, because she didn't protest anymore.

Claire walked passed me to retrieve her suitcase from the spare bedroom. She smiled at me on the way there; it was tight and nearly invisible, but a smile nonetheless. I knew she'd find a way to tell me everything in the morning. Bella and Nathan were by the door already. She asked him when Emily was due home. He never missed a beat while answering her, but he was clearly distracted; he kept throwing glances at the hallway, as if he feared Claire would make a run for it through the window or something if he didn't notice.

But he had nothing to worry about. A moment or so later, Claire reemerged. She wheeled her suitcase a little awkwardly forward, as she was trying to pull her coat on at the same time. Chuckling, Nathan came over to help her.

They left a little while later without saying as much as a goodbye. I was still across the room, watching Bella as she said one final goodbye to the two of them. Then, slowly, she shut the door. As soon as she had, she stood on tiptoes and peeked through the peephole. Seeing she was well-distracted, I quietly moved towards her.

"Aww, he's putting his arm around her," she half squealed, half sighed, but her happy announcement was soon replaced with a sharp gasp when I wrapped my arms around her waist. I could feel her heart hammering in her ribcage. Slowly, she lowered herself to her feet and turned to face me, her cheeks a little flushed.

"Alone, at last," she smiled, the color in her cheeks darkening ever so slightly.

"Finally," I agreed, letting my fingers flutter against her cheek, imitating the motion of her own fingers at the back of my neck. My eyes were locked on hers.

"Long day?"

"The longest." My other hand still rested on her waist; my fingers wandered along the hem of her cardigan.

"Are you hungry?"

I only grinned. _You could say that_.

But she misinterpreted my silence. "I could probably work something out if you – "

Her voice muted at once when I touched my thumb to her lips. I reached out to turn off the main lights with my other hand. "We'll have enough time for talking later, love, don't you think?"

I didn't give her a chance to reply. I pinned her against the door, and she met my lips halfway, moaning as soon as our lips touched. The sound sent a shiver through me. I felt her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling at it as our kiss deepened. I held on to her so tightly I feared I'd leave bruises on her skin, but at the same time I was reluctant to let her go. The heat I could feel radiating from her body overpowered me. This was how I had wanted to kiss her since we got here.

A flash of lightning illuminated the apartment in a momentary silver glow. The roar of thunder that followed made us pull away from one another at the exact same moment. We just stood there for a moment, staring at one another breathlessly. I was nearly dizzy from lack of oxygen, and her unfocused stare suggested that she was feeling the same. I grinned at her and cupped her cheek in my palm before I leaned over to kiss her again. This kiss was softer, but not less urgent. I felt her impatience in the way she was tugging at my shirt. Her fingers, cold and greedy, found their way beneath it. I broke the kiss and hissed into her ear as her nails grazed down my chest.

"What's wrong?" she murmured as I pulled away from her with difficulty.

"You have to stop doing that," I rasped in reply.

A slow, evil grin curled on her lips as her fingers stilled. "Why?"

"First of all, because we're still on your doorway." I couldn't believe I was able to utter full, coherent sentences. My mind was like mush. It felt as if any moment I would spontaneously combust. "And second… I kind of want to take things slow tonight."

She didn't say anything for the longest time, but there was this glimmer in her eyes, visible even in the darkness, that suggested she was up to something. Her arms slipped from beneath my shirt as she snaked them around my neck and pressed herself closer, grinning. "Alright, then. Let's go take a shower."

Her statement made me freeze. She answered my inquiring look with the tiniest smirk curling in the corner of her lips. Her smile was challenging, daring me to turn down her offer. Not that I was going to. I'd go dancing in the rain if she asked me to. I loosened my grip around her just a little, and soon her lips found mine again as she blindly led the way down the hallway.

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**A/N: there's a bunch of outtakes from this story, smaller scenes I didn't feel should be expanded into full chapters. Instead, I compiled them into a story which I'll post separately. Keep an eye on those alerts – it's called _Forever and a Day_, and it should be up in a few days. In the meantime, since I brought fluff back into the story, drop me a nice review? Pretty please?**


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty Nine – Bella**

For the next four days, work had been nothing but a hassle, an unwelcome interruption to our lazy, blissful routine. Edward always woke up before me and my alarm, got the coffee ready, and cooked breakfast – a different thing each day – to show off his newly-found culinary skills. Then we left the apartment together – me to rehearsals, and him to wander around. When I was back, we either went out to dinner, or he had dinner waiting for me, and we spent the evening in front of the TV with him massaging my feet. It was something he'd done for me at home during rehearsal periods at school; I didn't realize how much I missed it until he did it again.

Since we weren't performing, I had Saturday off. Edward and I spent almost the entire day outside. I wanted to show him as much of the city as possible. I hardly got a chance to do that recently, just be the tourist that I had sometimes longed to be. We took long walks along the Thames and Oxford Street, we saw the Queen's guards switch at the Palace, we visited the market in Covent Garden; we even fed birds in St. James Park. In the evening we went to see a musical with Ivan, and met my friends at the pub later. They all got along really well, despite my fears Edward wouldn't like them. Even Ivan behaved himself, which was rare.

Today was different, not just because I woke up before he did, but because there was nowhere to rush to. It was Sunday. I smiled to myself, propping myself on one elbow so I could have a better look at him. He was laying on his back, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. Auburn hair fell carelessly against his forehead. His long eyelashes barely grazed his skin. I let my eyes wander along his prominent jaw, his chin, his five o'clock shadow, his full lips, curled in the tiniest of smiles, as if he was dreaming. My smile widened an inch. It seemed yesterday wore him out.

A shift on his side made me break out of my reverie. He sighed, and groaned. "Why are you staring at me?" His eyes were still close as he asked it, but his eyelids fluttered as if he struggled to keep them shut. His voice was raspy, sending a shiver through me.

"I'm not staring."

"I can feel it." The sheets rustled as he rolled on his side to face me. His emerald eyes – still fogged with sleep – lit up when they met mine, although he tried to hide it with a scowl. "What?"

I wanted to come up with something witty or seductive, something that would be a good enough justification for my shameless gawking, but all I could think of was the truth. "You're sort of beautiful."

But instead of returning my smile, he rolled his eyes. "Just how much did you drink last night, Bella?" I felt like sticking my tongue at him, but he yawned before I decided to go with it. "Go back to sleep."

"Hmm, I don't feel very sleepy anymore."

"Fine. _I'll_ go back to sleep so you can stare some more."

With that he rolled to his back and closed his eyes again. I scooted closer and climbed on top of him. His eyes snapped open and a gasp escaped him as I leaned over to press my lips to the skin beneath his ear. "I liked it better when your eyes were open," I whispered. I was close enough to hear him gulp in response. I trailed my lips along his jaw, deliberately slow, and pressed myself against him when his hands came to rest on my waist. I placed a brief, teasing kiss on his lips and grinned at him as I pulled away. He looked displeased.

"Hmm. I don't think so," was all he said before his lips came crushing against mine.

For the millionth time in the past four days, I found myself wondering how I had managed to live without it for so long. The only sound in the room was the whisper of sheets, the wet hiss of our lips as they moved in synch against one another, and a breathless giggle every now and again. It was when he pinned me to the bed that another sound – brutal in its loudness – tore into the silence.

"What the hell?" Edward rasped as I pushed him off me to turn the alarm off. He sat up and leaned against the bed board, breathless and exasperated, his hair a mess. "Why did you set an alarm on a friggin' Sunday?"

"Because," I said, reclaiming my place on his lap, "I want to surprise Emily and bake cupcakes, and it takes time." I flashed him a grin before I pressed my lips to his collarbone.

"Oh, I see," he murmured, gently pushing me backwards as he brought his own lips to my neck. "Just so I understand," he said, placing a kiss on the hollow of my throat, "You're actually saying," another kiss, to my pulse point, "You prefer cupcakes," one more, on my jaw, "Over," one to the corner of my lips, "Me?"

He didn't wait for my reply as he kissed me, hard. It shouldn't have surprised me so much, but it had. It took all I had to pull away from him. "Normally I wouldn't," I managed, and grinned at him once I got my frenzied breathing under control. "Would you pass the chance of making a little girl happy?"

"I already made her happy," he pointed out smugly. "I got her mother back."

"Nice try, smartass," I laughed, and pulled him out of bed. "Let's get to work."

xoxox

I thought we did well with those cupcakes. They looked about right, which was a good thing already. For the past few days I'd been kept away from the kitchen with Edward doing the most – if not all – the cooking. It felt nice to be taken care of, for a change. I hadn't realized it, but in a way, up until now he had been just another person to look after, as far as cleaning and cooking went, like Charlie or Renée. But after spending so much time with Claire, I hoped we were heading towards a change.

We were meeting Nathan, Claire and Emily in Regent Park, which was quite a long journey from my place, but the only park I hadn't got a chance to show Edward yet. We did half the way on foot so we would have less changes to make on the way. It was such a gorgeous day, too; bright blue sky with feathery clouds dotting it here and there. It seemed a waste to spend a day like that underground.

It took us longer than I'd estimated, so when we finally reached the park, I could already see them. They settled close to the lake. Nathan was sitting on a quilt they'd spread on the grass, engrossed in reading, as always. Claire and Emily were a short distance off by the water's edge, feeding ducks. I halted at the sight of them. I couldn't get over the shock I felt upon first seeing Claire for the first time a few days ago. Now, standing next to Emily, it was twice as striking. They looked so much alike. I was almost ashamed of the tears I could feel stinging my eyes.

My gaze focused on Emily. I was really anxious about her reception of Claire, and although Nathan had told me on the phone things were going well, it was something I needed to see with my own eyes. I watched her carefully now. Her body language didn't suggest resentment; on the contrary. She seemed really comfortable around Claire. And Claire didn't seem awkward as I'd almost expected her to be, still struggling to adjust her new role. Nathan was right. It was as if she'd never left, as if they'd known each other for the past seven years, not just five days.

"Bella!"

There was a flash of red and a swift motion forward, and then my hand was forced out of Edward's as Emily charged at me, nearly knocking me over with a hug. "Why, hi there," I giggled, steadying her. It had been about a week since I'd last seen her; her exuberance sort of caught me off-guard.

"Where have you _been_? We waited and waited – we thought you weren't coming!"

"Nope, running a little late, is all," I replied, ruffling her hair.

"You'll never _guess_ what happened – "

"Emily, let her breathe," Claire – suddenly next to us – laughed as she took a hold on her erratic daughter. We didn't manage to say as much as a 'hi' to her when Emily's attention was already diverted.

"Are you Edward?"

"Yes, I am."

She gave him this scrutinizing look. "You're taller than I thought," she mused. "Did you really find my mommy?"

"I think she sort of found _me_," he replied, exchanging a grin with Claire. "It's really nice to meet you, Emily. I heard so much about you," he said, stretching out his hand for her. She seemed impressed. Her small hand all but disappeared in his as they shook hands.

"We have a good reason for being late – I've got a surprise for you," I told her. "Remember those cupcakes we had on your birthday?"

Her eyes grew huge with understanding. "You _found_ them?"

"Better," I grinned, "We baked them."

This got her all excited. As we walked over to where Nathan was sitting, she shot questions at both Edward and me about those cupcakes we made. Somehow he kept up with her; I found myself wondering if this was how Alice had been when they were younger, or whether he was now experienced around kids because of his new job at the community center. Edward wasn't a great talker, and I feared that Emily's enthusiasm would stun him into silence. Somehow, it had the opposite effect.

Seeing Nathan was another shock. He looked better than I'd ever seen him before. It was as if once he got Claire back, a burden fell off his shoulders, and he allowed himself to live again. I introduced him and Edward, realizing only in that moment that I hadn't before. I feared it would be awkward, for Nathan and Edward, for me and Claire, but it wasn't. Emily was quite an ice breaker, too. Nathan said she could have one cupcake before lunch, and she settled ours were better than the ones we had on her birthday. Claire teased Edward about trying to bake without her, and told Emily her grandmother once taught her how to make cupcakes. This got Emily all worked up, of course, and she didn't let go of the subject until Claire promised her they could try baking them sometime. And all the while Nathan was sitting there watching them with what could only be described as disbelief.

We had lunch when the sun was in the middle of the sky. Afterwards I lay my head on Edward's lap and closed my eyes, basking in the sunlight. It had been a while since I could afford to do just that, lazying about and doing nothing. It felt as if I'd been running around ever since I got here almost a year ago. Edward's fingers were combing through my hair, which only added to my drowsiness. Over my head, he was discussing academic issues with Nathan. Claire intercepted their conversation with teasing comments every now and again. Emily was a short way off by the lake, by the sound of it. I kept my eyes close, just listening. As the breeze blew into my hair, I felt myself being pulled deeper and deeper into sleep. I guess I wasn't completely asleep though; at some point their conversation shifted to me.

"Is she asleep?" asked Nathan, and there was clear amusement in his question.

"Seems like it," Edward replied, and there was the gentlest poke on my side. I chose to ignore it. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"It's your fault. If anything, it means you need to speak about something else besides school." I couldn't decide if Claire's scolding was meant for Edward, or Nathan, or both.

"There's no reason to switch topics now; she's asleep already," Nathan contradicted her.

"I'm awake," I managed, and forced myself to open my eyes. The sunlight was right in my face; I squinted.

"Are you, really?" The sun made a sort of a halo around Edward's head as he looked down at me, chuckling.

"Yes," I said, sitting up to make my point. I still felt a little disoriented though, so I thought I'd better move around a little. I tugged on Edward's hand. "Come take a walk with me."

He seemed sort of surprised, but let me pull him up without protesting. I told Nathan we would be right back, and we were off. But we didn't manage four steps forward before Emily spotted us and called out my name. I heard Edward snigger as his hand slipped into mine.

"Where are you going?" she asked when she caught up with us. There was curiosity in the breathless query.

"I was going to show Edward around," I told her, and paused. I knew what the right thing to do was. As much as I wanted to be alone with him, I couldn't bear the thought of upsetting her. "You can come too, if you want," I said, throwing a glance at Edward. His subtle nod didn't escape me. I was relieved he understood what I was trying to do.

"Really?" She seemed eager and hesitant at the same time, as if she sensed by instinct she might be intruding.

"Sure," Edward spoke before I managed to reply. "You could lead the tour."

"Two guides at the price of one?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. He just shrugged. "We won't be working for free, you know."

"Good thing I brought my wallet with me, then," he flashed a crooked smile at me, patting the front pocket of his jeans.

"Go tell Daddy you're coming with us," I urged her, and watched her as she hurried towards the place Nathan and Claire still occupied. When we were left alone, I turned to face Edward. "Thank you."

"For what?"

I poked his side gently. "I wanted to be alone with you, too."

He laughed softly at my sheepish confession. "Claire said I should prepare myself for competition. Maybe if I gain her sympathy I won't have to fight for you."

"If it's any comfort, you've never had to fight for me; you'll never have to," I assured him, pressing a kiss to his lips. He quickly pulled away as if he heard Emily's returning footsteps.

Despite their supposed stance as enemies, Edward and Emily hit it off quite well. It felt as if they hadn't stopped talking since we took off. They went from his musical training to what it was like to be an uncle, to an elaborate tale about Sophie, the Cullens' dog. He answered all her questions patiently and at length as we crossed Queen Mary's Gardens in the center of the park. He was holding my hand the entire time, and Emily strolled alongside us, closer to his side, her eyes never leaving him as he spoke. She seemed completely besotted, as I'd expected her to be.

Eventually we entered the Broad Walk, the large avenue that eventually led to the Zoo. There were more people there, mostly gathered around a small café that was shaped like a wooden cabin. Signs hanging outside the cabin advertised ice cream and cold drinks. We had lunch not too long ago, but a sudden craving for something sweet didn't let me go.

I didn't realize I halted until I felt a tug on my hand. I blinked and found Edward's eyes on mine. Concern was clear beyond the mischief I found there. "What?" His gaze followed mine, and then averted to Emily. "Looks like it's time I pay my tour guides," he told her, grinning. "How does ice cream sound?" He didn't wait for her reply, but took out a ten pound bill and handed it to her. "Get anything you want."

She took the money, somewhat dazed. It was as if she'd never held so much money before. "Shall I get you something too?" she asked eventually.

"Nothing for me. Bella?" His lips twitched in the tiniest of smiles.

"Coke float, please," I smiled at her as she seriously nodded. She was familiar with my most recent addiction, Coke with vanilla ice cream, something I'd never tried at home. It had never looked appealing, and I'd always preferred smoothies anyway. "We'll be right here, okay?" She nodded one more time, and sprinted towards the café. "You're playing dirty," I told Edward without taking my eyes off Emily. This was why I hadn't noticed him move until I felt his arm snaking around my waist.

"I never promised to play fair."

"But that's over the top. You really shouldn't do this to people."

"Do what?" he smiled obliviously.

"Dazzle people like that. You probably screwed up her love life for good."

He chuckled, and held me a little closer as he gave me a teasing look. "Do I dazzle _you_?"

I held his gaze without flinching despite my flaring cheeks. "Frequently."

The sudden playful glimmer in his eyes suggested it was an issue he wanted to dwell on, but from the corner of my eye I caught sight of Emily, struggling to get her order off the counter. I untangled myself from his grip, and hurried inside to help her.

By the time I was back, the two of them found a vacant bench a little way off the café, along the avenue. I could feel Edward's eyes on me as I took a seat next to him, quickly setting on the plastic cup I held. The ice cream floated on top, coated by the brownish-gold foam of the coke. His expression turned horrified, almost disgusted, as he observed its content.

"What the hell?" he asked, laughing.

"Coke and ice cream," I shrugged.

"Is it just me, or did you really vow three summers ago there was no way you were going to try it?"

"Bella loves it!" Emily informed him before she took another mouthful of her ice cream.

"It's actually not as bad as I used to think," I admitted sheepishly.

"I suppose I have to share it with you since I didn't get any ice cream?" His eyes were leering at me.

"You can, if you want," I said, pushing the cup almost into his face. He made a whole show out of closing his eyes before he took a sip. Then he coughed and pulled the cup away from him, laughing. A drop of Coke dribbled on his chin. I resisted the urge to kiss it clean. Instead I pulled my most innocent expression as I wiped his chin with my thumb. His eyes were very dark all of a sudden, smoldering. I slowly removed my thumb, keeping my eyes on his the entire time. He gulped.

"Now who's playing dirty," he murmured in my ear, so low it escaped Emily's hearing.

"You love it."

"I do." His grin was coy. I thought he turned slightly red, but then again it could have been a trick of the sun.

"Edward, do you know how to fly a kite?" Emily's question put an end to our wordless dialogue.

"I used to," he replied, reluctantly tearing his eyes from mine.

On our way back, she made him speak endlessly about his history with kite flying. At that point he sheepishly admitted it was Emmett doing the logistical job with the kite they owned as kids. He just liked watching them fly. By the time we joined Nathan and Claire, she told Edward all about her dance lessons. She told me about the new moves she learned just the other day, and demonstrated in front of all of us once we were back.

"She's good," said Claire when we were left alone; Emily got Edward to go and feed the ducks with her. "I can't believe I missed all that."

"You'll be catching on in no time," I assured her. I let my gaze linger on Edward in the distance before I turned to look at Claire again. "So what are you going to do? Are you staying?"

The look that passed between her and Nathan didn't escape me. "I'm leaving with Edward in a few days until I get everything in New York sorted. And then I'll be back. For good." She looked straight at Nathan when she said it. For a second, it was as if I didn't exist.

"We, umm, were wondering if you'll be willing to serve as a witness," Nathan told me then. He must have read the confusion in my expression; he laughed softly as if his request should have made sense to me. "We're getting married as soon as Claire is back."

"Nothing flashy, just the city hall," Claire added as I gaped at the two of them, astonished although I really shouldn't have been.

"Bella?" Nathan's smile was wider now.

"Of course," I stammered, blinking to send the sudden tears away. "I'll be honored."

And this was when I knew that no matter what happened, no matter how many unresolved issues Edward and I still had left to work out, everything would be fine. If Nathan and Claire had managed overcome whatever issues they had, if they loved each other enough to leave the past behind them and never look back, if they put their confidence in the future and in each other, then so could we.

xoxox

Edward's imminent departure – just a day away – completely sucked the liveliness out of me. I couldn't believe we only had one more day together. The thought alone was excruciating. I never wanted him to leave. He came to get me from rehearsals; we were going out for dinner. A little over a week into his stay, everyone in the company had known him quite well by now, and they all stopped on their way out to say something to him when they spotted him waiting for me. Ivan seemed especially reluctant to let him go.

"I'm sorry, he's unstoppable," I laughed when we were left alone. Edward returned my smile and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I leaned into him gratefully.

I didn't have a chance to ask where we were heading when I heard my name being called. I looked over my shoulder, and Philippa stood in the middle of the hallway, prim and tall as always. She barely even smiled as she beckoned me forward. "A word, please?"

I knew her well enough not to be intimidated by her stern poise, although I couldn't help but wonder what she wanted. Edward slowly released me, and said he'd wait for me outside. I fought the urge to ask him to wait there with me, telling myself I was being silly. Instead I nodded, and walked over to her sort of fretfully. It wasn't like her to stop any of us on the way out. I couldn't help but wonder what she could possibly want with me.

xoxox

About two hours later, I was still dazed from what Philippa had told me. My hands were still shaking, and I had to keep them hidden in my coat pockets so that Edward wouldn't notice. He definitely sensed something was up, though. I hardly said five words during dinner, and I caught him watching me with concern every now and again. I was too distracted by my racing thought process to be bothered.

Although I was stunned, everything was so incredibly lucid. If two hours ago our future was under a heavy mist of uncertainty, it was all gone now. With just a few words, Philippa had managed to make it all perfect again, dropping the solution to our problem right into my outstretched hands. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, what I had to do, but I wanted to do this right. I was still stalling at the restaurant, too distracted by laying out my plan, but now, back in the crisp air of London in twilight, I was ready to set it out.

I couldn't have chosen better scenery if I'd planned it. It was too early to head home, so Edward suggested we'd take a walk along the Thames. On the opposite bank, the Big Ben and the parliament buildings were already lit although it wasn't completely dark yet, jewels in the midst of the falling evening. The sky was a wild mixture of pinks, oranges and purples. Like a postcard – that first one I'd sent him months ago.

His silence echoed mine. Maybe he thought I was upset with his departure. Maybe he was occupied with wondering what was on my mind. Either way, he didn't question me, just held me close as we walked forward in a slow pace. I knew he could feel the way my heart was racing, but I didn't mind it much, nor did I try to hide it. He'd know soon enough.

There were a few people around – children, tourists, lovers – none of them too close to us. Now was good as any other time. But as soon as I opened my mouth, no sound came out. The number of butterflies in my stomach increased, as did my heartbeat. Was that how it felt for him nearly a year ago? I remembered it vaguely now, through the mist of my own panic; the way he stuttered, and laughed nervously, and ran his hand through his hair. If I hoped this was going to be seamless, I'd just proven myself wrong. I was confident about this step I was going to make; there was no reason to be so flustered, and yet I was.

"Will you marry me?"

I didn't realize I had actually asked it until he suddenly halted. His hand dropped from around my waist as he stared down at me wide-eyed. "W-what?" he stammered. Disbelief ruled in his voice, in his eyes, even in his posture somehow. It was as if he was waiting for me to take it back.

Well, I wasn't going to.

"You heard me." My tone carried this challenging sneer. It didn't lighten the atmosphere like I hoped it would. He looked just as confused.

"But I thought you didn't want to… I mean, you said… I mean, coming here…"

"I wanted to come here because I wanted to find my way, and I think I have. I think we both have."

He didn't respond to that, just looked at me, studying my face carefully. "This has to do with what Philippa has just told you." It wasn't a question. I nodded, barely able to contain my smile now. "Well?"

"Well," I started slowly. "You know how I got the audition for this company because Madame La Pierre was close with Philippa Logan? Apparently, Philippa has friends in the New York City Ballet, too. The two companies are sort of… partners, I guess. When one company is short in dancers, it can… borrow dancers from the other company. Sort of like a student exchange. It's easier and cheaper for them than start an audition round, so they try recruiting people this way first."

I used the simplest words to lay it out for him. I couldn't waste time on getting technical. I wanted the back story out of my way, at least. He nodded as if he understood, but he didn't seem to get my drift yet.

"This morning, Philippa got a phone call from her friends at the New York City Ballet. One of their ensemble dancers has been involved in a car accident. She's badly injured, and they don't think she'll be back there any time soon. They got an understudy who has already stepped in for her, but from what they see in rehearsals so far, it won't be a long-termed thing." I looked up. "Philippa asked if I would be willing to step in for her. She turned to me first because I was a local and she knew my contract terminates in July." I paused for a breath. "I told her I'd do it. I'm joining them in September."

Now he looked panicked. "But you said you wanted to stay with the company."

"That's why this plan is so brilliant. I _am_ staying with the company. I'm sort of a guest performer in the New York City Ballet. Legally I'll still be bound to the English National Ballet by contract. I'll still be a part of it. I'll be promoted according to their ranks, not the New York City Ballet's. I just won't live here, only when they ask for me."

"So… you'll continue to work for the English National Ballet but dance for the New York City Ballet for as long as they need you to?"

"Exactly."

"Why September, though?"

"They start a new production in September. Since I'm only going back in July, the understudy will finish the current production. It's less messy. And I can start with them from scratch."

"But what happens when their original dancer comes back?"

I shook my head. My newly-found happiness was this girl's tragedy. "According to what I understood from Philippa, she's not going to dance for a very long time. I might be promoted by then, so technically I won't be taking her spot if they ever take her back."

"You said you wouldn't have to live here unless they asked for you?"

I nodded. "I'll still have to come over here every now and again, but for a month or two, never more. And like you said, you'll be so busy at school; you won't notice I'm gone."

"Is this why you're doing this, Bella?" His eyes were suddenly darker, urgent on mine. "This is your career we're talking about here. Just a few weeks ago you told me you wanted to stay here. I don't want you to choose something against your will just because I'm – "

His voice trailed off when I closed the small distance that had suddenly formed between us, and pressed myself closer to him. "I love my job, but I love you more. Nathan told me a few weeks ago there was always a compromise, and he was right. This _is_ a compromise, but it's one I'm willing to make because I can't live through another year of being away from you." I let him absorb this before I continued. "Now, I know we agreed not to bother ourselves with what happens in July and afterwards, but this job offer is an opportunity, and… well, you still haven't answered my question," I ended a little sheepishly, and poked him gently. "I really don't know why you're so surprised. I did say I'd marry you." I tried to appear nonchalant and over-confident, but the truth was that panic began to sip in. What if he changed his mind? What if this silence meant indecision? What if, after everything that happened, he didn't want to marry me after all?

He said nothing for the longest time, and once again I was brought back to the day he proposed and I turned him down. Was he holding his breath too when I stalled? His face gave nothing away – not joy, or anger, or regret. His brow was set in the tiniest of frowns as if he was considering my question, his reply, his refusal…? I had to remind myself to breathe.

And then, suddenly, a smile broke his somber expression. "Ask it again," he pleaded, his voice nearly a whisper.

The air whooshed out of me; I literally staggered. Relief surged through me, so instant it made me gasp. I could feel my own lips curl into a huge smile when I tightened my grip around his neck and inched even closer, locking my eyes on his. "Edward Anthony Cullen, will you marry me?"

He was smiling openly now, and there was not a hint of doubt when he replied. "Yes. Yes, I will."

There was so much I wanted to tell him, so many emotions I couldn't fathom or contain, but suddenly I was speechless. He chuckled as if he knew exactly how I felt. Our lips met instead, saying everything words had failed to. And just like that, on the river bank of a city that was close to destroying us, Edward and I were engaged.

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**A/N – for those of you who are wondering, the English National Ballet and New York City Ballet being partners of sorts = completely fictional, but quite likely, I think. It served my purpose well so I used it – thanks Rachey for coming up with it! The story is now taking a short break for the sake of a few outtakes before the final chapter. I want to post them in sequence instead of later, so head over to _Forever and a Day_ (link is in my profile), and keep up those awesome reviews. I'm always happy to know what you think :)**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: so, here's the final chapter. I'm not saying goodbyes and thankyous yet because there's still an epilogue and a couple of outtakes left, so that will have to wait. I hope you enjoy the following chapter – make sure to let me know if you do *wink wink***

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Chapter Thirty – Edward

It was amazing how one small event had so much impact on one's life. In the end of June and the beginning of the summer break, when my finals ended and I handed in the latest of my papers, life divided into two periods: the time before Bella's return, and the time that followed it. Time seemed to be speeding up since she got back, or so it felt. It was mostly due to the fact Alice was keeping us both busy with preparations for our wedding.

_Our wedding_. I had to take a moment every time I put those two words together. The concept was a tough one to absorb. I knew it should have dawned on me by now with Alice bugging everyone about flowers and fittings and catering samples, but it was still unbelievable to me. Weeks passed, and then days, and still I couldn't grasp the fact that by that time the next day, she would already be my wife.

Bella arrived at Forks a few days ahead of me, since I had some unfinished business at work. Ever since I joined her here, she had been spending nights here instead of at Charlie's, with his consent. She felt bad about ditching him, but he swore to her it didn't bother him. He spent most of his time at work anyway; at least at my place she'd have some company. Last night, though, Alice all but kicked her out of the house, determined to go by the tradition according to which I wasn't allowed to see her until the service. Bella had no choice but to obey.

So, thanks to my cousin, the night before my wedding had been a lonely one. I spent most of it staring at the ceiling, thinking of nothing in particular. I wanted to call Bella and ask if she was as giddy as I'd been, but I didn't want to wake her in case she was asleep. Besides, I was too scared of Alice to attempt any break of her rules. I guessed I drifted at some point, because when I opened my eyes – I didn't even remember closing them – it was suddenly morning.

I just lay there for a bit longer, letting the enormity of the day wash over me. It was still kind of early, I thought, but there were bustling sounds that came from the bottom floor and outside as if everyone had been awake for hours. It made me feel somewhat guilty, just laying there doing nothing while everyone else had been working for who knew how long. Last night I asked Emmett to wake me up so I could give them a hand in the garden; he just scowled at me and told me not to be ridiculous. In that naughty signature grin of his, he advised I'd keep my strengths for my wedding night.

Stretching, I reached for my bedside table, where I left my phone the night before. I switched it on and checked on the time – it was a bit after seven. I felt that foolish grin stretching wider – it was plastered to my lips since I said goodnight to her the other night. I accessed the menu and chose a new text message. I told myself I wasn't breaking any rules. Alice had forbidden me from seeing her or speaking to her, but she didn't say anything about texting. She spent the previous night with the Swans, saying it was because she needed to help Bella get ready in the morning. It was a ten minutes drive from our place to theirs, and so I suspected the real reason behind her stay was because she thought I'd try to sneak into Bella's room. As if I didn't know better.

_I'm marrying you today_, I wrote to her. I lay the phone aside and closed my eyes, but I didn't get a chance to sink back into sleep when the pillow vibrated beneath me.

_I know :)_

Before I managed to come up with a reply, I received another text.

_Leaves you about 4 hours to change your mind_.

I chuckled. _Not likely, Mrs. Cullen_.

_Hmm. I like the sound of it_.

_So do I_.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, I pulled the covers over my head and held my breath as the sound continued down the hall. I exhaled slowly when whoever it was didn't stop at my door. Only when the sound ceased entirely, I slowly lowered the covers, releasing another breath. That was just a precaution; Alice had spies everywhere.

I brought my attention back to my phone. My lips curled in a smile when I thought of what I was going to type next. I could picture her so clearly rolling her eyes in response to my message. I didn't care. I was allowed to stoop into clichés today. _Have I told you I loved you?_

_Not in the last several hours. Has anything changed?_

_Yes. I love you more_.

_Has your reluctance to dance changed as well, by any chance?_

I grimaced, my smile all gone. I knew everyone would expect me to dance, but the idea wasn't appealing. In fact, it was as bad as having to stand there in front of dozens of witnesses while stating my vows. Something would happen and I'd fall over. There was no way I'd be able to keep up with her. _It's not dancing with you I resent, it's dancing, full stop_.

Instead of a reply, my phone suddenly vibrated with an incoming call. Bella's name flashed on the screen. Even if she was calling to scold me and say I was acting like a fool, I didn't care anymore. There was a wide smile curling on my lips as I accepted her call.

"My, my, isn't my future wife a brave one? Breaking Alice's iron rules with her in the other room?"

"Clearly your future wife wouldn't have done it unless someone has talked her into this."

I froze. The voice, cold and sarcastic, wasn't Bella's. "Umm, m-morning, Alice! W-what are you d-doing there?" I stammered feebly.

"Edward Anthony Cullen, would you so kindly _stop messing with tradition_?" she yelled at me. Through the rustling line, her voice was a high-pitched screech. I held the phone away from my ear.

"I didn't… do anything…?"

"Well, I have a bunch of lovey-dovey texts in Bella's inbox to prove otherwise," she interjected. "Now, unless you want to meet the wrong bride by the altar, I suggest you get out of bed and tell Emmett I asked to keep an eye on you _or else_!"

I really didn't need her to continue this threat. She was more than capable of setting something up just because I was trying to mess with her plans. Knowing her, she could go as far as dressing Ivan in Bella's gown or something else just as crazy. I shuddered with horror. I didn't even want to think about it.

xoxox

The morning passed in a blur. Emmett must have got a call from Alice, because he accepted my help in the garden without protesting this time. I helped Jasper hanging tiny light bulbs on the treetops that surrounded the garden. Despite our fears of a bad weather, today was sunny and even a little warm. After climbing up and down the ladder a few times, I was actually feeling hot and sweaty, an unusual sensation here in Forks. Emmett, whose tee shirt was soaked back and front, was the living proof that even the weather knew better than messing with Alice.

People had come and gone all morning; most of them were strangers who helped to set everything up in the garden. Emmett and Jasper – with orders from Alice, no doubt – had kept me busy. I'd done everything aside from driving to Port Angeles for extra drinks, as if they feared I'd stop at Charlie's on the way. I didn't realize how late it had become until I nearly bumped into Alice while stepping into the house to get a drink. She was about to cross the living room on her way upstairs. Charlie, Anya, Jenna and Ivan were on her heel, each carrying a clothed bag. Ivan waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me. I pretended not to notice.

"Girls, you take the spare room, it's the last one down the hall. Rosalie should be up there already. Charlie and Ivan, Emmett's room is the third door on your left – oh, hey Edward!" She chimed when she caught sight of me, skipped forward and gave me a hug, shooing everyone else upstairs. Charlie and I exchanged wry smiles. He looked as giddy as I felt.

Then something occurred to me, and my gaze shifted back to Alice. If she was here, then Bella must have been here as well. Surely she wouldn't leave her at home alone when her father and bridesmaids were all here, would she? Her tone was light and breezy when she greeted me, quite a change from this morning. It felt safe to steal a sneaky glance over her shoulder.

But, to my great dismay, she shook her head before I even got a chance to utter the question. "You're wasting your time. She's been upstairs for nearly three hours."

There was a hint of victory in the statement. No wonder Emmett had insisted I'd stick to the garden, and its farthest end at that. I chuckled. "What did you do, snuck her through the back door?"

"Pretty much," Alice replied smugly, looking quite pleased with herself. Then she gave me a gentle shove. "Come on, it's time to get you ready. I'll go check on the girls, and I'll meet you in your room in twenty minutes."

"Shall I risk asking which room you hid her in?"

Somehow she still looked graceful with a frown. "Not if you care about your life. Or hers. And don't you think about texting her again, I have her phone. Up you go!"

There was no option but to obey.

xoxox

The silence in the hallway upstairs was sort of eerie. Somehow, the noise from downstairs was barely audible up here. All the doors on the top floor were shut, which made the hallway look deserted. Every now and again, random giggle would be heard from inside of the rooms, but each time it ceased before I could determine which one, or to whom it belonged. Bella was behind one of these doors, hidden from me. Was time crawling for her, or flying by? Was she excited, or nervous, or anxious? Were her hands shaking? I hoped my cousin wasn't driving her into hysteria.

I used Alice's absence to take a quick shower. When after fifteen minutes she hadn't showed up, I decided to tackle my suit by myself. Really, it couldn't be _that_ difficult. I figured Bella's dress was much more complex with tiny hooks and a train and whatnot. I couldn't work out my tie – my hands were shaking too badly – and so I left it wrapped loosely around my neck. All of us – my father and Charlie, Emmett, Jasper and Ivan – were wearing suits, because Alice had declared she wouldn't stoop to overused clichés. A tux was apparently considered cliché; black was out of the question. Our ties were in different shades of purple, except for my father, who wasn't going to take an actual part in the service.

Alice knocked on my door while I was struggling with the tie. Despite my endless teasing, and her endless ranting about our choice of theme colors, she looked gorgeous in her strapless, lavender dress. She thought we could do so much better than lavender and pearly white, which – in her opinion – was hardly considered a color at all. If it was up to her, she would have chosen something less subtle, more radical, like blue or red or gold. We were more stubborn than usual, and eventually she relented.

She had nothing to mope about though. The dress, ending at her knees, made her look taller, and impossibly more graceful. The material – endless transparent layers one on top of the other – swayed about her whichever way she moved. It reminded me of the gown Bella wore for her mother's wedding years ago, but it was prettier somehow. She looked a cross between Audrey Hepburn and a fairy.

"What?" she asked as I gawked at her, her eyes wide with horror as if she thought there was something wrong with her outfit.

I shook my head, snapping out of it. "Nothing," I said quickly. "You look great. You see, you shouldn't have doubted Bella," I teased her. Since most of the preparations could have been done only from my end, Bella had taken on herself the mission of finding her own dress, and her bridesmaids. Ivan's grandmother, who used to work in a bridal shop, had helped her a lot with it, much to Alice's dismay.

Expectantly enough, her face settled into an unsatisfied frown. "I did have a final say about the samples she sent from London," she pointed out. She did a little turn in front of the mirror as if she wanted to make sure it looked right. Then she gave me this contemplative look. "Bella's dress is quite nice, although it could have been so much nicer if she let _me_…"

Her voice trailed off when our eyes met. She let out this nervous giggle which told me that beyond this babbling exterior, she was as nervous as I felt. "I'm really happy for you, guys." Her voice broke and she laughed through tears. "Damn it, I promised myself I wouldn't cry so early in the day."

I laughed softly. "Come here." She stepped into my outstretched arms and I held her tight for a moment. "Thank you for everything," I whispered, carefully laying my chin on the top of her head. "You're my favorite cousin."

"I'm your _only_ cousin!" she protested, jokingly shoving me back. "Now come on. We don't have much time to make you presentable."

xoxox

After she fastened my tie and messed with my hair, Alice sent me downstairs and disappeared in my parents' room, where I assumed Bella was. Somehow I managed to get over myself and not follow Alice there. I promptly turned my back on the door she'd just disappeared through, and continued down the hall. There was booming laughter coming from Emmett's room, where the guys were getting dressed. I debated whether I should join them, but eventually decided against it. I was better off not being around Emmett so close to the beginning of the service.

From the top of the stairs, the bottom floor looked completely altered. Alice had done a phenomenal job. It topped Emmett and Rosalie's wedding. Our colors dominated everywhere. She used strings of fake pearls to tie the tiny bouquets of lavender she spread across the room, which made me laugh. Somehow she managed to keep things in tune without going over the top, which was unusual for her, but perfect for us. We didn't want anything too grand or exaggerated, and somehow she got it perfectly. If she wasn't such a brilliant dancer, she could make a fortune out of wedding planning.

Renée and my mother were chatting at the bottom of the stairs. Renée's dress was pink and summary, as if she forgot there was never a proper summer in Forks. My mother was wearing a narrow skirt in icy blue with a matching jacket. The color made the unusual shade of her hair stand out. It was about the seventh time they met in all the time Bella and I had been together, but watching them looked as if they'd known each other all their lives. From the hint of conversation I caught, my mother was telling Renée about her most recent exhibition at the gallery. Renée promised she and Phil would pass through there on their way home. They both stopped talking when I joined them.

"Oh, honey, look at you," my mother beamed at me, her eyes tearing up already.

Renée had the same look as she took in my outfit. "My daughter is one lucky girl," she said, winking at me. My cheeks felt all hot beneath their probing gazes; I hoped I wasn't blushing. Renée shook her head and turned to look at my mother again. "I knew right away, from the moment I saw them together at my wedding."

"I knew as soon as he brought her home that first time," my mother said, flashing a smile at me that only made me blush harder. "Mr. Weber has just arrived, honey, it's almost time!"

Mr. Weber was the only minister in town. I went to school with his daughter Angela. I'd been waiting for this moment for days, weeks, months; but now, so close to the moment of truth, sudden dizziness swept over me. I was suddenly petrified. "I think I need to sit down," I breathed, grasping the banister for support.

"I'll go upstairs and see if they're ready," Renée suggested, throwing a worried look at me. I barely noticed, as I was focused on taking slow, even breaths through my nose. If this was how stage fright felt, I was grateful I wouldn't have to handle it again anytime soon.

My mother excused herself shortly afterwards, as people were beginning to arrive. I caught Mr. Weber's eye from across the room, and he nodded in acknowledgement. I didn't hurry to go over and say hi. I had a meeting with him earlier that week, so I didn't feel I was being exceptionally rude. I hadn't seen his daughter around, but I guessed that if she was here, I'd bump into her eventually.

I decided to distract myself with a walk around the living room, to see what else Alice had done to it. I felt strangely lonely down here. All of my friends were upstairs. Jasper and Ivan were recruited to the Bridesmaids' Army, as Bella and I jokingly called it. I saw Renée coming downstairs again and hunting for Phil in the gathering crowd. They joined my parents by the door to welcome everyone, since Charlie was held upstairs with Bella and everyone else.

Our guest list was about half the size of that of Emmett and Rosalie's wedding, and still it felt as if the spacious room was packed with people. For the residents of tiny Forks, this was a fairytale of sorts – the local doctor's son was going to marry the daughter of the chief policeman. The fact we didn't know each other here, but miles away, made very little difference. I recognized most of our neighbors, a few of my father's colleagues and Charlie's peers at the station. I finally caught sight of Angela; she'd hardly changed at all. The Stanleys were here, but fortunately, Jessica was nowhere to be seen, although I suspected I'd run into her at some point of the day.

"Having fun yet?"

I turned with a start to find Jasper grinning at me. His suit was a lighter shade of gray. His hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. Even with Alice constantly at his heel, I was used to seeing him disheveled and unkempt, so it was quite refreshing to see him so dressed up. I smirked, a reply of sorts to his query. "I hope you realize this is going to be twice as bad in your wedding." I was in on the secret; he meant to propose to Alice later tonight.

He just laughed, untouched by my attempted threat. "How are you holding up?"

"I think I need a drink. Or two. Or two hundred."

He roared with laughter, sounding suspiciously like Emmett. "I really think you shouldn't."

I nodded. He was probably right. I ran a hand through my hair, trying not to ruin whatever the hell Alice had done to it. "How come you're allowed to go downstairs?"

"I got a pass," he replied, chuckling. "I told Alice someone has to check on you before you get a panic attack. And I made sure to say it next to Bella."

"Good call," I agreed, my gaze involuntarily darting to the top of the stairs. "Is Emmett down yet?"

"I don't think so. Do you want me to get him?"

"He's supposed to have the rings. Could you please just make sure he has them?" It still looked like quite a mistake to trust our wedding bands with Emmett, but he had insisted he wouldn't pull any nasty tricks. I really hoped I could count on him with that.

Jasper promised to take care of things, and disappeared upstairs again. With him gone, I had to struggle to focus on my breathing again. It had always been easier to stay calm with him around, like he could somehow affect people's moods. It was a Jasper thing, as Bella so well put it once.

I joined my parents by the door just for something to do. A few of Charlie's friends from the reservation had just showed up. I recognized some of the boys although I hadn't seen them for ages. Sam – followed by his wife Emily and their three-year-old son Noah – smacked my back as we chatted for a bit. But even while making small talk with him and his wife, I was distracted. I knew who was missing. Among the noisy mess the Quileute boys had made, Jacob Black's absence stood out.

I showed Sam and Emily inside and watched as Quil and Embry chased Noah until the three of them disappeared behind the glass doors that led to the garden. Then I excused myself, meaning to go back to my parents, not before I sent another hopeful glance upstairs.

"Why, look at you, all dressed up."

I spun at the sound of the familiar voice. "Claire!" Relief surged through me as I pounced at her. We spoke three days ago when they arrived at Seattle. I had nightmares about them getting lost on the way here. I was too busy the other day to call her and make sure they made it to Port Angeles in one piece. As it seemed, there was no reason to worry about.

"Hey," she murmured as I slowly released her, and patted my shoulder to straighten my jacket. Then she flashed an impish grin at me. "Nervous, much?"

"I'm so glad to see you." God, I meant it. Being alone down here made me impossibly giddier.

This was when I caught sight of her outfit and my eyes widened. I'd never seen her so dressed up before. Her dress was black and clinging, showing off her slender curves without revealing too much. She was even wearing heels, which was rare. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun. "You look stunning."

"What, this old thing?" she rolled her eyes in mock indifference.

I chuckled in response. I missed her sarcasm, I realized. It was strange not to have her just a flight of stairs away. She was back in London at the end of May. Bella served as witness when she married Nathan about a month later. She had been living with him and Emily ever since, and got a job backstage at the theatre in the university Nathan was teaching at.

"How's going back?" Our wedding was a part of the Earnshaws' summer trip to the States. They spent a few days in New York, and then made a stop at Claire's parents in Chicago. I thought they meant to continue to Orlando in a few days, but I wasn't sure.

"Emily loved New York. She keeps asking if we're coming back. It's weird to be back though, yeah."

"How did it go with your parents?"

"Better than I expected, actually. They were very supportive, considering the way I'd dropped my news on them."

She stopped sort of abruptly, and her face lit up as something behind me caught her attention. I looked over my shoulder just as Nathan and Emily approached us. Her hand was clutched tightly in his. Her dress was dark purple; her hair, as red as a flame, was streaming down her shoulders and held back with a purple ribbon.

Nathan wasn't wearing a suit, and I couldn't blame him – I knew he'd loathed them as much as I had. Instead he had on dark trousers and a light blue dress shirt with its sleeves rolled to his elbows. He held a dark blazer in the hand that wasn't holding Emily's. "Freaked out yet?" he laughed as we shook hands.

"Find me a bag I can breathe into and I'll be fine." Emily, half hidden behind him, was watching me curiously. It was only our second meeting. I smiled at her. "Hey, Emily. I really like your dress."

"Thank you," she replied, and her cheeks turned slightly pink. "Mommy helped me to pick it out."

"Oh, did she?" I asked, grinning at Claire. She seemed to be adjusting just fine to her new role. "You match our flowers."

"It's very pretty," she asserted, having another look around.

"Bella thought you'd like them."

"Is this place really called Forks?" she asked, her head tilted slightly sideways as she shot me a dubious look.

"Yes, it is."

"We have a pub called Spoons at home, why wouldn't there be a place called Forks?" Nathan, ever the teacher, asked her.

"It's a funny name," she said, still unconvinced.

"It is funny, isn't it?"

"How is Bella doing?" Nathan asked me.

"I wish I knew. Everyone is decided on not letting me see her."

"I can try and sneak upstairs, if you want," said Claire, winking at me.

"Better not. My cousin might avenge you." I was only half-kidding. I feared for anyone who attempted to mess with Alice's plans.

"Oh, right, the unrelenting Alice. I can't wait to meet her." It so happened that during Claire's short stay in New York and in our building, she'd never met Alice. I meant for them to meet before she left for London, but Alice was on the road a lot, so it never came to be.

"_Yo, bro_!" Emmett's holler put an abrupt end to our conversation. He was standing at the top of the stairs with his arms slightly raised, clearly unaware of the number of heads that turned at the noise he was making. "Are we ready to begin?"

I rolled my eyes and threw an apologetic look at Claire and Nathan. "My brother. I have to…"

"Don't worry about us. We'll be right there," Claire smiled and nodded towards the seats a small distance from the stairs, which were slowly filling in.

I sighed wearily, wishing to have the strenuous part of the day behind us, and walked over to meet my brother at the bottom of the stairs. Together, we crossed the room towards Mr. Weber, who was leafing through his prayer book. He and Emmett chatted for a bit; I let my eyes wander about the room, too distracted to make small talk. I let my eyes linger on Rosalie, who looked stunning in an emerald-colored gown. She was deep in conversation with her mother, who was holding Jade. Then her eyes flickered around the room and met mine. She said something to her mother, kissed the baby's head, and excused herself. Smiling at me, she took her place by the piano, which we wheeled across the room just the other day.

At this point my heart was beating in a crazy pace. There was this constant ringing in my ears, somehow louder than the background noises of rustling fabrics, soft murmurs and occasional laughter from our guests. My parents, Renée and Phil took their places in the front row. The first seat in the row, beside my father, remained empty – for Charlie. Claire, behind them, flashed an encouraging smile at me. Nathan was explaining something to Emily, who was watching him curiously, which made me wonder what they were talking about. I closed my eyes and slowly opened them again through a deep breath. Emmett threw a worried look at me; I told him I was fine.

There was a glimpse of purple at the top of the stairs, which could have been either Jenna or Anya – I couldn't remember which one of them was supposed to go down first. Jasper appeared at the top of the stairs, signaling in a nod they were all ready. I saw Emmett exchanging a glance with Mr. Weber, and then with Rosalie. Some of the guests smiled fondly at me, even those I didn't think I know, as if my panic was obvious (which was probably the case). It felt as if my eyes were everywhere at the same time, trying to take in as much as possible, and it made me dizzy. I pinched the bridge of my nose, and wished there was a banister I could hold on to nearby.

Emmett, suddenly right next to me, smoothed another wrinkle on my jacket and straightened my tie, before he led me forward, just a few steps away from where I was standing. His hand lingered on my shoulder as he grinned at me. "Good luck, kiddo."

A second too late, I realized I was supposed to understand it meant that we were starting. I opened my mouth to protest, to say I needed a moment, but by then it was too late. There was a horrible moment of complete silence, and then the music started.

This was my biggest contribution for today. Alice agreed that composing a tune for the service was a brilliant idea, and helped me to keep it a secret. While Bella was busy organizing things on her end, I spent hours working on this piece. In fact, it wasn't completely finished until two days ago, but Rosalie was a good enough pianist to be able to pull it off as un-rehearsed as it was. Now I was anxious, fearing it only sounded right in my head. If I was being honest, I believed it was my best composition yet, but what if it wasn't? What if everyone hated it? What if Bella hated it?

As the sounds wrapped around us, the girls began their slow descent down the stairs, leaning on the guys' arms; first Jenna with Ivan (I could bet it was the first time anyone had managed to get him into a proper monkey suit), then Anya with Jasper, and eventually Alice, beaming at me as she took her place across from Jasper. Everyone stood up, somehow in perfect timing, and I knew it meant Bella was coming next. I fought to stay steady on my feet. I kept my eyes at the top of the stairs – like everyone else seemed to – scared to even blink so I wouldn't miss her. It felt as if I wouldn't be able to breathe until I saw her.

I didn't have to wait long. My gasp was swallowed by the murmur of the crowd, a combination of appreciation and awe, as soon as she appeared at the top of the stairs, leaning against Charlie's arm. I gaped at her as each step brought her closer. She all but glided down the stairs in her dancer's grace. Her face was mostly hidden behind her veil, and for a moment I feared she'd miss a step and trip, but she didn't. Her steps were confident, graceful, perfectly synched with her father's. Charlie looked the handsomest I'd ever seen him. His suit was dark grey, his tie a shade lighter than mine. Every few steps he would glance at her, to make sure she was okay. The amount of love in his eyes was overwhelming.

I brought my attention back to her. I spent many nights wondering what her gown would look like, and got teased enough to have this thought at the back of my mind every waking hour too. It was everything I'd had in mind, but at the same time, nothing like it. The bodice was strapless, showing off her slender waist as it descended in a straight line towards a full, A-shaped skirt (I only knew that because I happened to overhear Alice using the term; I didn't even understand what the hell it meant until I saw it). Her hair was loose, but pulled back from her face, somehow longer, its tips peeking from beneath the veil.

I was so preoccupied with taking her in that Emmett had to give me a gentle push forward. I advanced and slowly lifted the thin material off her face. There was this tight smile curling on her lips when her eyes finally met mine. Charlie whispered something in her ear and kissed her cheek. Then he took her hand and very gently placed it in mine, raising his eyes to meet mine as he did. Beyond the tears that were clearly visible there, there was nothing but trust in his dark stare. I was glad he had finally come to trust me with his only daughter.

Slowly, I wrapped my fingers around her hand. She adjusted my grip a little, lacing our fingers together. Her hand was cold. I gave it a little reassuring squeeze as I led her forward. The music drifted into a beautiful close once we stopped in front of Mr. Weber. Bella handed Alice her flowers. I reluctantly let go of her hand. There was another moment of silence before Mr. Weber softly cleared his throat, and the service began.

"Dearly beloved…"

As much as I struggled to keep my attention on the ceremony speech, I found myself unable to. Mostly, I was watching her, trying to read her expression. That tiny smile was still ghosting in the corner of her lips, and I couldn't decide if she was terrified or impatient. Her eyes flickered from the minister to me as if she had meant to keep up with his speech. There was this glimmer in her eyes whenever her gaze met mine. I was so busy staring at her that when I heard my name being called, I started.

"Edward Cullen, do you take Isabella to be your lawful wedded wife from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," I vowed hurriedly. Behind me, I heard Emmett snigger. Bella's lips curled in a wider smile. I mentally kicked myself. Idiot.

"Isabella Swan, do you take Edward to be your lawful wedded husband from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," she replied, looking straight at me.

Fortunately, Emmett didn't pull off any nasty tricks with the rings as I'd half-expected him to. He had them out as soon as the minister asked for them. Bella didn't take her eyes off me when I slipped the ring onto her finger and repeated Mr. Weber's words, making sure to pronounce each word clearly this time, a compensation of sorts on my rushed words from moments ago. Her fingers were trembling when she repeated the motion shortly afterwards. I held her gaze, hoping to reassure her.

"By the power invested in me by God and by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

I didn't need Emmett's encouraging hand on my back. I closed the small distance between us, all but crashing her to my chest as our lips met halfway. Our kiss was tender and lingering, a promise never to be broken, sealing every vow – verbal and symbolic – that had been made during the ceremony. The room exploded with cheers, applause and wolf-whistles. The sound came through my bubble of stupor, finally breaking it. I pulled away from her abruptly when it dawned on me this was it. It happened. We were married. She was mine.

I blinked, and realized she was staring at me. I shook my head against the concern I found in her gaze. I was just overwhelmed, that's all. Around us, everyone pushed forward to congratulate us, but I was too wrapped up in her to notice. Her arms were wrapped loosely around my neck. She was crying, but her makeup was somehow intact. In my blurry state of mind it seemed like a random thing for me to think of. There was strange urgency in her stare, and I leaned forward so she could whisper in my ear.

"I love you so much."

I just grinned at her, pressing another brief kiss to her lips before we were torn apart by family and friends. I only caught glimpses of white as I lost her for her mom and step dad, for Charlie, for my brother and Nathan and Emily. My own family pounced at me soon afterwards. My mother was crying openly by now, my father slightly more subdued, but clearly emotional as well. Alice's hug nearly squeezed the life out of me. Emmett smacked my back again, probably breaking something in the process. Even Ivan got to me somehow, holding me a little tighter than was probably appropriate.

When the crowd finally thinned, I looked around frantically, searching for her. I spotted her a little way off, but as soon as I had, a few more people came over to congratulate me. When they finally continued outside to the garden, I looked up and heaved a sigh of relief. She was still where I'd seen her earlier, talking to Anya. She was standing with her back to me, veil off, flowers gone. All slim figure and golden ringlets, Anya almost looked like Rosalie's lost cousin. At that point she noticed me, but I put my finger over my lips to signal she shouldn't make my presence known. Sneaking behind Bella, I wrapped my arms around her waist. She yelped, then giggled with realization, and pressed her back to my chest.

"I'll see if Alice needs help," said Anya, smiling at us before she left.

I waited until she was out of my sight before I leaned to nuzzle Bella's neck. "Hey there," I whispered.

She giggled again, trying to squirm out of my grip. "Will you behave, please? My husband might kick your ass if you don't."

I wasn't prepared for the swell of emotion that hit me when she said that word. She turned and gave me this sweet smile as she rested her hands across my chest. "Are you sure he will?" I asked her, holding her a little tighter.

"Pretty sure." She pecked my lips, but quickly pulled away. Faint blush rose in her cheeks as she smiled sheepishly. "Thank you for that tune. I had a feeling you were going to pull something off. It's beautiful."

I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her ring. "It's yours."

"It's ours," she corrected.

"It's ours," I seconded. "But I wouldn't use beautiful," I added, brushing a finger along her cheek. I felt a smile breaking on my lips when her cheeks were tinted deeper pink. Her eyelashes drooped, gracefully brushing her skin. Then her eyes fluttered open, meeting mine as I leaned a little forward. Her grin was mischievous, as if she knew exactly what was on my mind. She inched closer; so did I. Unfortunately, Alice had other plans for us.

"_There_ you are!" she chimed, supposedly oblivious to what she was walking in on. "Everyone is asking about you, let's go!"

"Alice, you kept her away from me since last night. Do you mind?" I laughed. Bella clung to my side in wordless agreement.

"Ah, wasn't it worth it though? Doesn't she look gorgeous?"

"Breathtaking."

"Still here, guys," Bella mumbled, keeping her gaze on her skirt. I laughed and held her tighter.

"Come on, come on, you can't ditch your own reception!" Alice was literally bouncing now.

"Wanna bet?" My gaze flickered upstairs hopefully.

That did it. Alice stopped bouncing and shot a glare at me. "You know I'll send Emmett after you. With his video camera."

"I know," I sighed. "Fine. We'll be right there." I watched her prance away before I looked down at Bella. "So, Mrs. Cullen." The name slipped easily from my lips, as if it had always meant for her. "I believe I owe you a dance."

She let out a little gasp, clearly remembering my reluctance from this morning. I flashed a crooked grin at her. "New beginning, new me?"

She laughed softly and placed her hand in mine. "I kind of want to dance with the old you, if you don't mind."

"Ladies and gentlemen, give a big cheer to _Mr. and Mrs. Cullen_!"

Emmett's announcement was loud enough for us to hear inside the house. I rolled my eyes and laced my fingers securely with hers. I shut myself out to everything else – the background music, people's cheers and applause; nothing else existed except for the warmth of her hand. I was barely aware of the fact we were moving forward, but suddenly the sounds were louder, surrounding us. She squeezed my hand a little, a wordless encouragement.

"The sooner we get this over with, the faster we'll be able to sneak upstairs," she whispered.

"Too right."

And with another secret smile, we went outside to celebrate our first moments as husband and wife.


	31. Epilogue

**A/N: an epilogue is usually the shortest part of the story, but this one turned out pretty massive. This is because it includes both Edward's and Bella's POVs, each covering half the space. As you will see, it picks up a few odd years after chapter 30 has left off – I **_**really**_** hope I got everyone's ages right. Feel free to correct me if you find any inconsistencies – math is not my strongest suit lol. Although there's still an outtake I haven't posted, I want to thank you guys for your feedback and compliments, and for sticking up with this story. It was great fun to write, and it was even better to read all your comments and speculations. I'd love to know what you think about this one final piece because it turned out to be my favorite to write… you'll see why soon enough ;)**

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Epilogue

I'd almost forgotten how remarkable London had been at night. It was as if it had woken into life. It had a certain quality, a certain charm, which even New York City didn't possess. The streets were packed with people on their way to one show or another, the cafés and restaurants were full with people who came to have a bite to eat a little before showtime. I hadn't been here for a while, but it felt as if nothing had changed much: the billboards above the theatres, like shimmering diamonds, their lights sparkling into the night, the buzz of excitement, the constant babble in the streets.

But there was something different about tonight, something that made the entire city glow twice as bright. I couldn't help the smile that I could feel curling on my lips as I caught sight of the marquee that hung on one of the theatre's walls, announcing today's performance. If I didn't think of it as self-humiliating, I'd take my cell phone out and snap a picture of it. But with the place swarming with well-respected people, I thought perhaps I'd better not. I might be kicked out and miss my wife's first performance as a senior principal dancer.

It was hard to believe she truly got it. All those years of hard work and dreams that at times seemed unreachable, and it was finally all hers tonight. It felt oddly symbolic that her first role as a senior principal dancer would be Odette in _Swan Lake_. Everyone at home thought it was hilarious when we told them, of course. We were back on the same jokes, the same puns, as if it hadn't been twelve years since she'd danced it for her final recital in Juilliard. I was so proud of her my heart was about to burst into million pieces. I felt so lucky I could be here and support her.

But soon enough, I was reminded I wasn't the only family member who was there for her tonight.

"Hurry up, Daddy, we're gonna miss it!"

"We're not _gonna_ miss it, since _gonna_ is not a word," I corrected my overly excited six-year-old, my smile widening at her impatience. "And we're not _going to_ miss it either. We've got plenty of time. It doesn't start until seven thirty."

"Come on anyway!" she declared, indifferent to my attempt at grammatical corrections, as she yanked at my jacket, fidgeting.

"Don't rip it, it's going to upset your mother."

"Mommy never gets upset with you," she protested, unaffected by my warning. I guess we'd given her good enough reason to sound so confident about her statement.

It was her first time abroad. Bella's promotion and her first big role were enough of a justification for a family trip overseas. The timing of this production was perfect as well, considering it was summertime. I wasn't sure which part of the experience excited her the most; the actual trip or the chance to see her mother onstage. She'd only seen Bella perform once before, since up until then we thought she was too young to sit through a full performance. Tonight was an exception.

I stole a quick glance at her, and our eyes met. Her smile reflected my state of giddy excitement. There was this glimmer in her eyes, so much like her mother's. She was such a perfect blend of the two of us. She had the bronze of my own hair, and Bella's dark brown eyes. But mostly, she was purely herself, like I used to think about Jade, Emmett's eldest, at the time. She was animated and erratic, traits neither Bella nor I had possessed. In a way, she was very much like her grandmother Renée, or her aunt Alice. Often we had found ourselves pondering where all that never-ending energy was coming from, whether it was an age-related thing or whether it was permanent, but at other times, I decided I just didn't care. She was our own personal miracle, our touchstone, our everything. I couldn't imagine our lives without her now.

She had made it all a little more bearable for me. I could never fully cope to Bella's absence whenever she was away. But ever since I became a father, my priorities sort of shifted. So instead of sitting there counting the days until my wife was home, I had my child to focus on. I learned so much about myself in that time it was just the two of us, my daughter and me. Dadward, Emmett used to joke, but I could tell he sensed the difference too. I found my strength in her.

I took her hand in mine and threw a glance at the crowd before I brought my eyes back to hers. "It's going to be a little crowded, so don't let go of my hand now, okay, Grace?"

"Okay, Daddy," she nodded seriously, and I could feel her little hand squeezing mine just a bit too tightly as if she wanted to make good on her promise.

She didn't seem intimidated by the mass of people around, even though they were all over us, huddled together in the lobby as we finally made our way in. Expensive perfume carried heavily in the air, mixed with faint smell of champagne and cigarette smoke that managed to sip in from the sidewalk. It was a sea of pearls and diamonds and furs, mostly in black, but with an occasional glimpse of color. I straightened my tie uncomfortably. I'd rarely worn ties, so it was needless to say I felt overdressed despite the fact that some of the men went as far as wearing a tux. I was so hot I felt like undoing the top button of my dress shirt, maybe rolling up the sleeves, but as soon as the thought had crossed my mind, I decided against it.

Grace eyed me critically, and then nodded her approval. "You look very pretty, Daddy."

I laughed softly. "You don't use _pretty_ for men, sweetheart."

"Why not?"

Sometimes it felt as if I would never be able to keep up with her ongoing questions. Where did the sun go when it got dark? How did the rain know when to stop just in time for springtime? And how would Santa know where to find us if we spent Christmas Eve with Grandma and Grandpa, and then Christmas Day with Grandpa Charlie? Even the simplest ones had insanely complicated answers. I found myself constantly mystified by this fact. "Just… because," was often my feeble reply.

"What do I say then?"

"Handsome."

"So you look very handsome," she corrected herself, stumbling over the end of the new word. Then she looked up at me expectantly.

"Very good," I nodded, and she flashed a toothy grin at me.

I accidentally caught a glimpse of someone's wrist watch, and my breathing began to speed up. It was almost time. I knelt in front of my daughter. She held my gaze, and there was a flicker of concern there, as if she was sensing my distress. "Okay. Bathroom?"

"No. Can we just go in?" she pouted. I could feel my heart melt. This pout was her secret weapon, had been almost since the day she was old enough to understand its power. No one could remain indifferent to it, especially not me.

"Sure. I just need to do something first," I said, guiding her towards a small table where two ladies were selling programs. I only got one for now, knowing we'd probably be back here a few more times before it was time to head home, so I could get some for everyone else.

Grace watched me curiously as one of the ladies handed me my change along with the program. "What's that?"

"I'll show you when we go in, come on."

I let Grace hand our tickets to the usher. He seemed surprised at her being there, a child among all these grownups, and she informed him very seriously that her mommy was dancing here tonight. We spent a moment or two explaining to him who her mother was before he showed us in and explained how we could find our seats.

All day I'd been acting nonchalant, especially on the phone when people called to give Bella their best wishes. I even managed to maintain my composure while conversing with the usher just now. It was when we stepped into the dimly lit theatre that I began to feel those small tingles of excitement, like little jolts of electricity, not a reaction you'd expect from a person reaching forty in a few years. I'd been there before several times, but it had never seemed as grand to me as it did tonight.

Grace halted as soon as we passed the usher. "_Whoa_!" she gasped, standing on tiptoes so she could take a better look at the enormous balconies over our heads. The theatre on the inside was breathtaking. It had four floors in total. The sight of it, slowly filling in, made the blood freeze in my veins. I was pretty sure the Metropolitan, where she had been dancing regularly for years, had more seats than this theatre, and still, the thought of Bella dancing the lead in front of so many people made me excited yet absolutely terrified at the same time. I couldn't even begin to imagine how she must feel backstage, merely moments before curtain.

"Can they see anything from up there?"

"Not as well as you will," I laughed as I guided her to our seats in the stalls, third row, dead-center. I mentally reminded myself to thank Philippa Logan, who was still a key figure in the English National Ballet, for getting us such excellent seats.

From the corner of my eye, I detected a few well-dressed ladies in the row behind us eyeing me with cold disapproval as I helped Grace to take off her coat. I tried not to take offense. A child had always attracted that kind of attention in a theatre, normally a grownups' domain. But I wasn't worried about Grace misbehaving tonight. Regardless of the fact her mother was about to dance the lead tonight (a fact I felt like rubbing in those women's faces), Grace had enormous respect for everything that had to do with performing arts, ballet especially, having spent a major part of her childhood backstage of the New York City Ballet. I first took her with me to see Bella in _The Nutcracker_ on Christmas, and she sat fascinated pretty much from beginning to end. When it came to ballet, she'd shown an amount of maturity that some much older people hadn't displayed, so I wasn't too worried about that.

I couldn't help but admire her dress again, dark green taffeta that made her look like a porcelain doll. Curtsey of Aunt Alice, of course. I wished I knew how to curl her hair, because I bet she would have looked even more adorable with ringlets. Instead I just brushed it properly, so it now tumbled down her back in long waves. I wasn't a completely hopeless dad, though. I knew how to braid her hair, sometimes better than Bella, an art even Emmett seemed unable to muster at the time. He was lucky his Jade turned out to be such a tom boy.

"Show me what you got," Grace reminded me as soon as we were seated, and her little hands reached out for the program.

"It's a program. We got one on Christmas too, remember? It has the names and pictures of everyone in the production."

"Mommy's too?" she exclaimed, finally getting my drift.

"Especially Mommy's," I smiled, and leafed through the pages until I found her. It was a different portrait than the one taken when she first got here. This one was taken when she was promoted into first soloist. I just stared at the photo in disbelief for a second, unable to grasp that it was happening, that she was finally on the first page, that she was going to dance her first leading role in less than fifteen minutes. For a moment it really did feel I'd pass out.

"I-sa-be-lla Sw-wan," Grace read out slowly, breaking out every sound and syllable. She was going to start elementary school in September, but we'd been working on her reading for a few months. For someone who had turned six only a few months ago, she was doing really well. However, she still had trouble with long, unfamiliar words. She looked up at me, and there was confusion in her dark stare. "Why Swan?"

"That was her surname before we got married, and she kept it as her stage name."

"What's a stage name?"

"Some artists don't use their own names. Like, remember Ivan, Mommy's friend? The one who's now a dancer in Russia? He has a different name."

She gaped at me. "He does?"

I nodded, smiling at the childish fascination in her eyes. "But you can't tell anyone. He likes to keep it a secret."

"What else?" she handed me the program and watched me attentively.

I skimmed over her bio. "It says Mommy is a senior principal dancer, which is the highest position in the company for a dancer. This is why she is doing the lead tonight." I couldn't help the hint of pride my voice carried. I hoped the sour-looking ladies heard me. "And under that it says what roles she did before and how long she's been with the company."

The information seemed to please her. She looked ahead for a moment, then back at me. "The stage is awfully close."

"It is."

"If I wave, will she see me?"

"She might. But you can only wave when it's over."

"I know," she said, looking offended at the thought of me thinking otherwise.

"I was just checking," I taunted her, reaching out to touch her cheek. I wanted to poke her like I'd do at home, but I didn't want to risk a fit of hiccups just a few minutes before the show.

"Excuse me."

I looked up, startled at the realization that the strange voice seemed to be addressing me. A young woman now occupied the seat next to mine. She looked straight at me, but there was something uncertain and hesitant in her smile.

"Are you Edward Cullen?"

I gaped at her for a second, unsure how she could know my name. Her thick accent implied she'd been living here probably all her life, so there was slim chance for us to know each other. She looked about twenty, my students' age, but there was something striking about her features I knew I would have remembered her if indeed she had been one of mine. She wore dark purple, and the color made her red hair stand out. There was something oddly familiar about her, and so I knew I'd seen her before, but I couldn't put my finger on when. Especially right now, with my nerves hanging on a thread.

And as if she found the recognition she wanted in my eyes, she laughed softly. "I'm Emily Earnshaw. My parents are – "

"Nathan and Claire," I completed when it suddenly dawned on me, my voice low with awe. Then, as it slowly sank in, I let out a short, surprised laugh. "Oh my God, look at you!" I hadn't seen her for years. She must have been about eleven or twelve the last time we met. "Are they here with you?" I asked, looking over her shoulder, suddenly hoping they were.

"No. Mom is in-between productions, and Dad has a few weeks off before the new semester, so they're spending the summer in South Africa," she replied, rolling her eyes.

I smiled at her reaction. It sounded like something Claire would do. I couldn't help feeling sorry for Nathan. "What are you doing here?"

"I have a friend at the company who got me tickets, otherwise I would have found myself up there," she said, nodding at the unfortunate viewers at the balconies. "I squealed so hard when I happened to see the cast list," she confessed, and faint pink tainted her cheeks. "I bet you're so proud of her."

"Right now, I'm scared out of my wits for her," I laughed nervously. I wondered if she was already up there, in the wings. I wondered if her heart was racing, if her hands were shaking. I wondered if she'd read our card yet, the one we'd been planning for weeks and then worked so hard to keep away from her. I hoped she knew we were out here. More than anything, I hoped it comforted her.

"She'll be grand. I'm looking forward to see her."

We'd kept in close touch with Nathan and Claire for a while, and then it was as if things became busy overnight, and our conversations narrowed down to phone calls on holidays and birthdays. Our friendship sort of faded, like long distance friendships often do. It was sad and upsetting, but that was how life worked. "Does she know you're here?"

"No. I wanted to surprise her. I guess I should have expected to find you here." She looked over my shoulder, and flashed an impish grin at me, painfully like her mother's. "Here with a date, I see."

I turned to face Grace, whose gaze shifted between me and Emily. "This is our daughter Grace. Grace, Emily is a friend of Mommy and me."

"Hello, Grace," said Emily, her voice softer. "How old are you?"

"I'm six," Grace whispered, and then buried her head in the crook of my elbow.

"She's a little shy," I apologized.

Emily shook her head dismissively, and then smiled at her. "I've known your mommy since I was about your age."

This made Grace raise her head. She scrutinized Emily's face for a moment before she asked, "Are you a dancer too?"

"I am, yes."

"You're, what, about twenty now?" I asked.

"Nineteen this winter. I'm just about to start my professional training. I got accepted to Rambert, if you've heard of it."

"I haven't, but I'm sure Bella has."

I wanted to ask more, but at that moment, the lights above us dimmed, and darkness wrapped around the theatre. Grace clung to my side for a second, with excitement I thought, before she sank further into her seat. I exchanged a frantic look with Emily, who just smiled with much more confidence than I felt. I took a deep breath, and slowly released it. _Good luck, love_. But my silent words were swallowed by the first sounds of the orchestra.

xoxox

It wasn't until the first announcement resonated above my head that I truly realized what was about to happen. I was beyond feeling terrified, but that didn't mean the butterflies in my stomach disappeared – never that. A little doze of stage fright was healthy, even after nearly thirteen years of practical experience. I read once that the moment you lost it, it was time to retire.

Well, _that_ time had hardly come for me.

My dressing room was small, and it felt smaller than usual with the enormous amount of flowers and cards and fan letters. We'd be sending the flowers to local hospitals later on in the evening, a part of a long-termed tradition of the company. I looked at the card I still held in my hands, the one I got specific order not to open until I was absolutely ready to go onstage, costume and makeup and everything, the one card that nearly made me undergo the entire makeup process again.

_GOOD LUCK TONIGHT, MOMMY – WE LOVE YOU!_ – my daughter wrote, clearly with her father's assistance. She hadn't mustered the writing of lower case letters yet, and knowing her, she must have insisted on filling out the card herself. I looked at her handwriting, big and childish and yet confident. Each letter was written carefully, as if he had dictated each word for her, his patience endless as always. I thought about them doing it on the sly, planning to keep it away from me until tonight. I raised the card to touch my lips to it, careful not to stain it with lipstick. I smiled as I thought of her, my beautiful baby girl, my lucky charm.

From a very early point of our marriage, Edward and I decided not to have children right away. A year with the English National Ballet was hardly enough to establish myself as a dancer. I was lucky to be promoted into a soloist shortly after I joined the New York City Ballet, but it felt like I needed to do more, much more, to make that year abroad pay off. I was afraid Edward would resent me for wanting to keep my career running for a little longer before who knew when I'd be able to work again, but I should have known better. He was as sweet and supportive about that as about everything else until then. He'd better focus on his studies anyway, too, he said. There was no reason why we wouldn't wait, he assured me.

Luckily for us, there was no family pressure, especially since Emmett and Rosalie had their twins. Matthew and Andrew were born three years after Jade, and that was enough to keep everyone busy. Fortunately for Emmett, he gained his own private football team as all three became enthusiastic sports fans. He used to take the boys to games when they were barely five. Jade started playing professional hockey this year, much to Rosalie and Alice's dismay. I knew they had expected to dress her up like they did with Sophie at the time. Eventually they found their human Barbie in my Grace, and a few years later in Alice's own daughter Lily.

So it was about five years into our marriage when I got pregnant. It wasn't a big surprise when it happened – we'd been trying for nearly a year – but it was still a hard blow for me. I cried for a long time when I realized I wouldn't be able to keep up with what had become my life routine, not even in the first few months. The company wasn't taking any risks, and I had to step down for the year. I'd never been away from my dancing for long. Sometimes it felt like rehab from some life risking addiction. There were days I thought I wouldn't be able to come through. There was no other option for me. I _needed_ to dance. It was a part of who I was. This was when second thoughts began to wash over me. It wasn't something I was proud of, those second thoughts. But they were all gone when I saw her, our daughter, his and mine. And in that moment, the first time they let me see her, nothing else mattered.

It was a difficult struggle to balance between everything I'd cared for in my life, Grace and ballet, New York and London, family and career, but one which I eventually won. Going back to work was a gradual process. Getting back in shape had often been tougher than not dancing at all. I only performed in local productions at first. Then I was promoted again, and was sent to London for the first time in years as a first soloist. Grace was barely three and I was scared to leave Edward alone with her, but he promised they'd be okay, and they were. And this was what we'd done from then on, whenever I had to go overseas to work.

Edward, who loathed the spotlights even more strongly than I did, turned to teaching. Side by side with his enrolling into the doctoral program in Juilliard, he joined their staff, first as a tutor, and then, a few years later, as a piano teacher. It worked perfectly after Grace was born, because his schedule was much more flexible than mine. I'd take her with me when rehearsals allowed me to, and he'd pick her up on his way home since we were situated close enough to one another. It worked really well; better than I'd expected, at times.

They had such an incredible bond, these two. Edward worshipped the earth beneath her feet. It was all kinds of ridiculous. For the past few months, he'd been teaching her how to play the piano side by side with reading and writing. Since she was born, he'd never come to see me when I had a production in London. He didn't want to leave Grace behind. It didn't matter that everyone volunteered to keep an eye on her during our absence. Emmett and Rosalie's kids loved her as their own sister. Charlie was crazy about her, his only granddaughter, and Carlisle and Esme adored her. On the day she was born, Alice declared she was willing to adopt her. We were covered on all ends, and still he insisted.

But tonight was different, I thought, my smile widening an inch. Tonight they were both here.

Tonight was my ultimate victory, the end of the struggle. I finally got there, to the top, the place that looked like an unreached dream when I first got to London. It took me longer than it had for others; twelve years for a senior principal dancer, a position one could reach to in nine, ten years at most. I knew it was because I had to step down for the year to have Grace, but I didn't regret that. And eventually, I got it, so there was really no point looking back.

The second announcement sounded, and I reluctantly lowered my card to the makeup table. I glanced at the mirror, and then hurried out. The corridors were a maze I'd known well, now with masses of people hurrying every which way. The size of the theatre, inside and out, should have been intimidating to me, but it wasn't. After so many years here, it felt like home.

I was surprisingly calm from the moment the orchestra started playing. I saw them briefly from time to time, while standing offstage or in a certain angle from the spotlight. Father and daughter, looking so much alike. We got a long standing ovation when we took our final bow. For a moment, I just stood there, overwhelmed by it all. I couldn't believe it was over so fast. Edward picked Grace up so she could wave at me. I blew her a kiss, and she pretended to catch it, like we'd often done at home. Then my gaze shifted to Edward again. Holding Grace up, he couldn't clap or wave, but it was all in his eyes, in his half smile, in the way he shook his head ever so slightly. I didn't need anything else.

There was an official cast party in a few nights, so I reveled at the opportunity to spend the rest of this evening with my family. I'd been away from them for nearly a month, and I barely spent time with them since they got here. I got ready as fast as I could, impatient to be back with them already. I didn't want to wear a dress when I didn't have to, but I couldn't come out in sweats when everyone else was so dressed up, so I picked black slacks and a purple satin dress shirt Alice had promised would look great. I smiled when I slipped my wedding and engagement rings back on. I tucked Grace's card into my purse before I hurried out of the dressing room, down the hall and through the door.

My exit drew more attention that I prepared myself for. The flashes from the cameras caught me off-guard. I found myself smiling without even realizing it. I thought I heard Grace's voice above all others, but I wasn't sure. My eyes flew over the crowd, trying to spot her, but the flashes were right in my face, and a few people were already holding out their programs for me to sign, so I had to give up my search.

She found me when I was the least prepared for it, and nearly knocked us both over when she launched herself at me. "Mommy!"

"Hey, you, where did you come from?" I giggled, kneeling next to her to envelope her in a hug. I let her sweet scent wash over me, this impossible combination of flowers and bubble gum and something else that was so uniquely her.

"There," she squirmed out of my grip so she could point at the right direction. I expected to see Edward following suit, but he wasn't there.

"Come here," I said, picking her up so I could hold her closer. I staggered a little; I told myself it was because I was tired, not because she was growing older and therefore heavier. I never wanted to stop holding her that way. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes, but I wish you didn't have to die, Mommy," she pouted, making a few people around us laugh. She nuzzled her head in my neck, barely taking notice of them. I knew she must be tired. Normally she'd be in bed by now.

"Where's your daddy?"

"Dunno," she yawned, her head drooping against my shoulder. The top of her head, nestled against the hollow of my throat, was cold. I held her a little tighter.

"Excuse me, Miss Swan, could you sign my daughter's program real quick?"

One polite request dragged another, and so I kept going with Grace in my arms. And then finally the crowd thinned, and I saw him. He wasn't alone, I now realized. He was having a rather lively conversation with a petite redhead who was half his size. My brow furrowed. I'd never seen him so animated before. He almost looked like Emmett had while he was discussing the weekly game with my dad. Seeing Edward that way was strange, and sort of unnerving.

"Who's Daddy talking to?"

"She sat with us. She says she knows you."

"She does?" My daughter's statement made very little sense to me. But I didn't have a chance to ponder over it because this was when Edward caught my eye. He told her something that made her look up and smile as well. I lowered Grace to the ground and watched the stranger as they approached us. The way she moved instantly indicated she was a dancer.

Edward excused himself then and closed the remaining distance between us. He reached out for my hand and I took it. Grace was still holding my other hand. I returned his smile a little hesitantly, still eyeing the stranger from over his shoulder. He barely saw her now. His eyes were all for me. "Hi," I whispered, squeezing his hand a little.

"You were wonderful." His low murmur, right into my ear, made me shiver. "I keep forgetting, and then you keep surprising me."

"When I _stop_ surprising you, we'll know we have a problem," I laughed.

"Kiss!" Grace demanded, her drowsiness gone in a matter of seconds as she looked at us expectantly. Edward's grin widened an inch as he dropped a kiss on my cheek. "No, a _real_ one, Daddy!" she protested. That, too, was a little game we used to play. His eyes met mine before he pecked my lips to the sound of her joyous cheer.

"Better?" he asked Grace, who nodded. He wrapped his arm around me, and I leaned into his embrace gratefully. Exhaustion was catching up with me.

And she was still watching us, the stranger, with a tiny grin on her lips. She looked as if she knew exactly who I was, and expected it to hit me any second. The way she was looking at me was like a wordless challenge. It made my skin crawl.

Edward's eyes followed mine, and he guided me towards her without me having to even ask. "Come on, there's someone who wants to say hi to you."

We were in front of her now. She was slightly shorter than me. Her brown eyes were gleaming, half excited, half playful. Her hair, carrot red, was pulled back in a French twist.

"Bella, this is – "

It hit me about mil-second before he said it.

"_Emily_," I breathed, my hand flying to my mouth. Her smile got impossibly wider. I wasn't sure if Edward let go of me, or if I charged forward pretty much the same way Grace had done earlier, but a moment later she was in my arms, giggling.

"Took you long enough," she taunted me, her accent impossibly thicker.

"I get forgetful. Age," I rolled my eyes, slowly pulling away from her.

"Thirty six is not _that_ old," she pouted.

"I'm glad you think so," I whispered, wondering how she could possibly remember that conversation, one of the first we'd ever had. I blinked, trying to get over the wave of emotion that swept over me, and looked up at her. "Let me look at you."

She smiled coyly and stepped back a little to obey my request. I did a quick calculation in my head. She was slightly older than Grace when I first met her, a scrawny disbelieving kid. Now she was a woman, and she was blossoming. Something within me broke when I realized I wasn't there to watch her grow.

"You look beautiful," I managed, my throat tight with tears. "Thank you for coming tonight."

Her smile was timid. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

My eyes shifted to Edward, who looked awfully proud of himself. "How did you find her?"

"I didn't," he shrugged. "She found us."

There was so much I didn't know, so much I needed her to tell me. I wanted to know how her parents were, and if they were in town. I was sure she was dancing now – just a hunch I couldn't shake off – and I wanted to know all about that too. But the theatre's lights had just been turned off. The street washed with the dimmer, soft glow of the streetlamps. Realizing I wasn't sure what our plans for the rest of the evening were, I looked at Edward again.

As always, I didn't have to say much. He grinned at me before he picked Grace up. She held on to him, wrapping her little arms around his neck. "Do you want to go to bed, or do you want us to have some ice cream first?"

The sudden glint in her eyes gave him all the answers he needed. "Ice cream," she said, confirming with words what we'd already guessed.

"Ice cream it is," I smiled, stepping closer to rub my nose with hers. Normally I wouldn't be in favor of her staying up so late, but we all knew tonight was special. "Come with us," I asked Emily, who shook her head.

"No. I should get going. But perhaps we could meet someday before you leave. We have a lot of catching up to do."

"I'd love that," I smiled.

"We already swapped numbers," she assured me, and her lively gaze wandered to Edward. "I'll be in touch."

"It's so good to see you," I whispered as we hugged again. I could hardly believe she was the same girl. She looked so different, but at the same time, she didn't.

"And you," she smiled, slowly pulling away. "Oh, and if you need a babysitter while you're here… I believe I owe you."

I burst into laughter at that. "I'll let you know."

After Emily left, Edward put Grace down so he could put his arm around me again. She got a hold on his other hand, excited about the idea of getting ice cream after bedtime. She attempted to bounce forward, but we kept her back with our slower pace. Edward asked her which flavor she'd choose once we got there. She seemed to have trouble choosing.

"Toffee – no, chocolate. And cherry. And vanilla and – "

"What, you want _all_ of them?" he teased her, pretending to be horrified. "I'll have to carry you back! How about we compromise," he told her, throwing a playful glance at me, "And until we go home you'll have one flavor each day?"

She didn't reply right away, as if she was considering it. "Okay. But can we have whipped cream today too? And raisins? And sprinkles? And fudge?"

The rest of their banter was lost on me. My thoughts drifted to Emily again. Seeing her after all this time brought it all back – not just the first time I came here, but earlier, when I had my doubts about Juilliard, about whether I'd be able to do this at all. The craziest thing now was that I'd done it all, and so much more than that, so much more than I had thought myself capable of at the time. Somehow it all turned out better than I'd planned. My mom told me once that life wasn't interesting if I was told everything in advance, and it wasn't until I watched my husband and daughter together that I'd actually realized how true this statement was. And looking at my own daughter, I knew it was a lesson I was going to pass on.

There was a gentle poke on my waist and I blinked, startled, to find both of them staring at me.

"What are you thinking about?" Edward asked me, and his grin was the crooked one I loved.

Life. Love. Choices. Balance. Destiny. "You," I heard myself say. The smile that passed between us was that sweet one which had always earned us our family's collective groan. And my answer actually summed it all perfectly. He embodied all of those. They all revolved around him, the only constant thing in my life.

"About me, too, Mommy?" Grace asked, her doe eyes glistening as she looked up at me.

"I'm _always_ thinking about you, baby," I assured her.

She nodded, satisfied, and towed us forward. Edward and I shared another secret smile, and I knew he knew exactly what I needed to tell him. He held me just a little tighter when we crossed the road towards the ice cream parlor, and I could feel the smile still ghosting in the corner of my lips when I followed my destiny inside.


End file.
